Of Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour
by Noelerin
Summary: What if Anne and Jane had developed a friendship, how would history have changed? If you don't like Jane or Anne, please don't read. Positive critiques are welcomed, no flames. 2 new chapters added.
1. Reflections on the past

Disclaimer: I do not own "_The Tudors_" or the actual historical people the show is based on. I own the idea though. Please, do not sue me.

Author's Notes: Of all Henry's wives, Jane's always been a favorite – and after her, Anna of Cleves. i don't know why I liked Jane, perhaps it's because there is such a mystery behind her and what she was really like.  
Could she really have been a cold and ambitious woman whose luck becoming Queen was timing – and that she died before who she was at heart could be discovered? Or was she really as submissive and quiet as she's been written? Was this by choice, by fear of the King and going against her family, or perhaps, was she just painfully shy as I am? Is it also possible that, far from being illiterate and uneducated, she had some rudimentary education? After all, her first audience with Chapuys was in French ("_Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII_" by David Starkey).  
I had wondered if it was possible for Anne and Jane to become friends if they had met before all the hoopla happened. May be I'm too influenced by the Betty and Veronica friendship of Archie comics fame. Anyone who knows the comics may see certain similarities between the two different pairings as I have. I have to admit that "_Wicked, the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_" and the friendship between Elphaba and Galinda (Glinda) also had a hand in it.  
But it seems to me possible that they could be friends based on an idea that Anne had formed a friendship with the young Queen Claude of France - a shy, rather plain looking girl when they met. And Claude was rather strict with her court and ignored her husband's philandering ways. What if Jane had come to court about the same time Anne (a Maid of Honor, age 16+) did – as a Maid of the Court, young girls between the ages of 10 and 15? (Anne had been a Maid of the Court to the Archduchess Margaret of Austria before going to the Court of Francis and Claude.)  
_Thus, this story was born_.  
I will accept constructive criticism and help for it is the only way to improve as a writer. Flames against me or Queen Jane or Queen Anne will not be tolerated. They will be reported as abuse.

If you do not like nor care for Jane Seymour or Anne Boleyn, this story is **not** for you. There is a back button, use it.

Historical Notes about the Tudors:  
There is some debate about the years the Boleyn children were born in. I chose to have Mary be the eldest and born in the year 1501. George came next in 1504 with Anne bringing up the rear in 1507.  
Jane Seymour was born in 1508.  
Anne was recalled in 1521, her father arranged for her to join her sister, Mary at Court in 1523 as a Maid of Honor. Jane was there as a Maid of the Court.

***

"You can't leave me, Jane," Anne was hard pressed in keeping her voice steady. Even breathing seemed difficult for her as she listened to the rattling, ragged sound of Jane's breathing in the quiet, still room. "I can't do this alone, don't leave me with the wolves."

There was a discrete cough from the door as the doctor entered. He had been taking care of Jane since she fell ill and felt a great deal of pity for the Queen. Not prone to listen to rumors when he'd first come to Court, he had watched the Queen and the Lady Jane carefully, noting the deep friendship between them. The two were so disparate in personality and religious beliefs that he couldn't quite understand how they had become friends.

And yet, they were good friends. It was puzzling.

"I pray thee, good sir, allow me just a moment more," she pleaded, not moving from her kneeling position. Her dark eyes turned up towards him, beseeching him for a moment of compassion. Of mercy, "Please, I wish to stay with my friend for a few minutes more."

His graying head shook, blue eyes not unkind or unfeeling towards her plight. "I am sorry, your majesty, but the risk to your own health is too great. I cannot allow you to stay any longer."

"Please, sir, she's the only friend I have," she tried to argue, weariness clinging to her. The cause was hopeless, she knew, but she didn't want to leave. Jane hated being alone in a strange place. And this was not the Court palace nor was it White Hall.

"It is too dangerous," he firmly repeated. "Think of your child, the Prince Edward. You do not want him to become ill, do you?"

Anne winced. Edward was sixth months old and still rather frail, ill of health. With a torn sigh, she rose, glancing down at Jane. "Fight death, my friend for I cannot stand alone again. I've grown used to having you by my side." The words were whispered low, only for Jane's ears.

For while she trusted the doctor, she did not trust the walls.

Her close friendship with Jane – a lady so unlike herself – had caused many to regard them with suspicion. Much like the other relationships she had at Court. Should Henry pay heed to the poisonous gossip, there was none to intercede on her behalf. For with the only legitimate son he had in ill health, the last of her supporters had trickled away.

It seemed her only saving grace with the King and the people were the heir – and Jane, both of whom were sick with the illness that had struck much of the Court.

"I pray thee, take care of her," she repeated her earlier plea, though the desire was changed.

"I shall endeavor to do my best," he did not add, though he was aware that she knew, that the fight was in Jane's hands. There was nothing more he could do for her. As with all of the others who had fallen ill, there came a point when the medical mind could do nothing and it was in the hands of God.

Anne swallowed back the sharp retort that instantly sprang to her lips. It was not his fault that Jane was ill. Blame could not be assigned to anyone. The pain twisted deep in her gut at the idea that there was no one to lash out at. Even if it was foolish of her, she _really_ wanted to punish someone for what had happened to those in the Court. "Thank you, Doctor Ford."

"Anne," the name sounded in the room on a voice harsh with disuse, raspy with debilitating coughs, and ugly with the wheezing breaths painfully drawn in.

Yet Anne had never heard a more beautiful sound in her life.

The Doctor reached out a useless hand in an attempt to stop her but she was by the bedside before the first twitch of his hand. A smile fighting its way through tears, "I thought I told you to call me _your majesty_."

"Humor me," she replied, a cough racking her body.

Doctor Ford intercepted the Queen's move, lifting Jane's head so that she could sip some lukewarm water. "Slowly, now, Lady Jane. Too much and you will set your healing back," he soothed her in a quietly commanding voice. His look was pointed at Anne who – for once – was quick to obey.

Still, she couldn't fight the glee that filled her to have Jane back. "Just this once I shall indulge you," she haughtily informed her.

"Most gracious and kind of you, dear Lady Queen," she murmured.

"I shall return later, to see if you have regained your manners," Anne continued as though Jane hadn't said a word.

Jane finally opened her eyes, a feverish look in the intermingled with affection and laugher. "You will have a long wait then for I have no manners where you are concerned. Something which is entirely your fault," she added.

"We shall see about both of those shocking charges," a smirk twisted her lips. Inclining her head to the doctor, she left. Pausing only once at the door to look one more time at Jane, she shook her head at the sight of the young woman, nearly swallowed up in the bed covers. A soft smile crossed her face as she thought about the shy girl she considered dearer than family – even closer to her than George, her beloved brother.

Who could have guessed that Jane, being so shy, could temper her fiery steel so much? For had anyone dared to mention the possibility of it to her when they had first met, she would have considered them more than ready for bedlam. There was nothing about the mousy girl that appealed to her – and yet, there was something to her that Anne found intriguing.

Her mind travelled back to the day she had first seen the girl and taken her under her wing, thinking that she would make a good project until she could figure a way out of the web her father was spinning about her.

***

_TBC - but sporadically b/c I have a great deal of unfinished works_.


	2. 1523

Author's Note: I do not own "_The Tudors_", Showtime does. Nor do I own the majority of the people, they belong to themselves and history.

Notes on this chapter:  
The existence of Will Dormer and his relationship with Jane is untrue, though I found a reference to this early romance in Karen Lindsey's "_Divorced, Beheaded, Survived : A Feminist Reinterpretation of the Wives of Henry VIII_." A thing that should have tipped me off to her scholarly abilities happens to be the reference to Francis Bryan as the one the Seymour family asked to help them with the Dormer family. She incorrectly labels him as Jane's Cousin. In actuality, he was Anne's (I looked it up, trying to get the connections right, found out he was known as the "Vicar of Hell". Nice, don't you think?). But I thought it was an interesting point and a way to connect Jane and Anne through a similar experience of having a relationship with someone other than the king that they cared for. Both she and David Starkey agree that the main love of Anne's life (besides King Henry) was Henry Percy. Wolsey's interference forced them to break up was one of the reasons she was so angry at him. Whether this was because of the Irish land argument or because of the King is a point of contention. Either way, she was angry with him and never forgave him for it. Anyway, keeping this early relationship meant that I had to have someone try and talk to the (fictional) Dormer family on Jane's behalf. Thus, Sir and Lady Arsinoë were created. They are fictional, very distant cousins to the Seymour family.  
Does anyone mind if I make Thomas Boleyn an abusive man? I swear, at one point, I thought he was going to hit Anne.  
And does Anne come off to modern? I mean, she was modern for her time but is she more modern than she should be? This is one of the main reasons I'm not happy with this chapter. Let me know if it works. Perhaps I should get a very, very patient Beta reader who knows this time and the characters.  
I blame Mary Boleyn's moods on pregnancy hormones – and yes, I know. I'm rushing the timing of her first known pregnancy. Considering her lifestyle, I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier. But I will take care of that.

***

1523

Anne curtsied to Queen Katharine, taking in the reddish blond hair and blue eyes critically. Allowing her gaze to travel along the line of Ladies in Waiting and the gathered Maids of the Court, all of whom had their heads meekly bowed. With a silent sigh of despair, she noted how similar in appearance they were – especially the mousy one in the back, a proper English beauty that one would be in time if she took care of herself and could overcome the unfortunate chin. The girl could hardly be a day over fifteen and looked far younger than that.

With another silent sigh, Anne realized that her father had carefully timed things for her Court debut. Mary, for all her blond looks, had stood out in this crowd – destined to catch the King's eyes and attention. It would be the same with Anne for with her dark eyes and hair, there would be no place for her to hide among such fair beauties.

She would stand out like a sore thumb, just as she had at her near Court debut when she'd participated as Perseverance at Shrovetide. Arriving at Wolsey's palace – for it had been no mere home – she had been informally introduced to many of those who lived and worked at Court, some of whom had sought her attention. But she'd eyes only for the one she'd met when the King had journeyed to celebrate the Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520, a certain young Henry Percy.

Of course, her father had found out about Henry Percy while they'd been at Wolsey's and had sent her away to Hever Castle. That had been mostly her fault for she had been rather foolish in her actions, allowing her father to catch them innocently engaged in a walk.

There was no way to escape the machinations of her father - not unless Henry stood firm against his father but she had little confidence in his ability to do so. The Earl of Northumberland had a fearsome reputation and Henry was quite gentle in comparison, it was something she admired about him. He was going home soon, this she knew and preyed for a favorable outcome.

The troublesome thing was, if the King turned his eye upon her, he had a powerful ally in his corner – the Cardinal Wolsey. The Cardinal who Percy worked for. If he took against them, if the Earl stood against them, would Percy falter? Would her father win?

If so, he would have the King's affections tied to his family, through her.

She railed against this idea that she was to be trussed up and handed over. It was one thing to be treated so in the ridiculous battle between her father and Piers Butler. At least then, she was being offered as a bride to James. Who, she had to admit, was an attractive, interesting fellow, if a tad young. She probably could have even resigned herself to living in the cultural backwater of Ireland with him.

But this…this was far different. It offended her to be asked to become the King's mistress. Not only did she find it morally repugnant, but it seemed to be incestuous for the King was currently with her sister. Everything she had learned from watching how Margaret of Austria was respectfully treated, to observing the power that the Dowager Queen Louise held over her son, King Francis, came to mind.

Those women had been real power players, but they had been backed by powerful men. Margaret by her Uncle and Louise by her son. Francis…her thoughts became even more dour, thinking of the man and how gracious he was to everyone – save his own wife. Disappointed as he may have been at her plain looks, he should not have treated Claude so ill. She had, after all, fulfilled her duty and wife by bearing him children.

The Queen raised her up, drawing her from her thoughts. Anne thought she detected something behind the kind smile. Her eyes, far from being distant, were gentle and understanding. Perhaps she, like Anne, felt the change stirring somewhere. For they were kindred souls, of a kind. Had circumstances been otherwise, Anne thought that Katharine was someone she could learn from, could admire.

Dismissed from the Queen's immediate presence, she moved to join the other Ladies. Her eyes searching the guarded crowd for some sign of welcome. For a sign that she would be a part of their inner circle of friends, not held away because of her strange, rather French manners and attitude.

There was none to be found and she sighed, this time not bothering to hide it.

Again, she was drawn to the mousy girl in the back. Though the girl had moved to the fireplace, the girl had not turned her back upon her as the others were quick to. Her soft, baby blue eyes were kind as they studied Anne's more confident person. They were quick to fall away in uncertainty when she noticed that she was being watched and Anne thought she caught a glimpse of green in them.

"Lady Anne Boleyn," she needlessly introduced herself with the kind of casual nonchalance she had developed over the years. She waited for the sharp intake of breath, the condemning pity to appear, rather surprised when it did not.

The girl curtsied, "Lady Jane Seymour," her voice was bland and gentle, much like the rest of her. But there was something there, some thing that reminded Anne of the home she had found in Queen Claude's Court.

"Have you been at Court long, Lady Jane?" she asked, noting the surprised look she received and wondered about it.

"No, my lady," she replied, hands twitching rather nervously. It surprised her that this sophisticated, strangely attractive woman was talking to her – much less showing interest in her. "I came to Court only a few days ago with my brother, Edward. I believe that I shall be leaving soon for our errand is done."

"What errand is that?"

"Other then seeing him off to the Court of Charles? My family desires a marriage alliance with our neighbors, the Dormer family. They seem to be unwilling to talk to us outright. There is some feeling that I am unsuitable. So, we have come to ask Cousin Arsinoë to intercede. Mayhap his connection to the King will aid our cause," she added wistfully, "I do so like Will. He looks and sees something of noteworthiness in me that no one else does."

"It sounds as if he is interested. Has he no voice in his family?" Anne asked, hearing something of her own situation in Jane's words. A great deal of pity filled her for she knew that, if Jane's cousin could not help her, there was little chance that she would have the husband of her choosing. It was much like her own situation. Save for one different – if she could keep her father out of it, she might have a chance to marry Henry. Even if he was to be the Earl and had a pre-arrangement with the Talbot family for a union. The negotiations were so long in coming, that they both doubted it would ever happen.

And while she might have been only the daughter of a diplomat through her father, there was more to her than that. On her mother's side, she was related to the Howard and the Butler families, nothing to be ashamed of there. It wasn't close enough that her marriage would be a matter of state like his, but it was not a disgrace should they marry. The only thing that made her marriage prospects such a concern now was the disputed land and title in Ireland. She wished she'd never heard of the place.

"I would never ask him to choose me over them," Jane's reply was soft. "For if his family is aligned against our union, then they see something that we do not. It would never do to fight against the wisdom of those who have more knowledge and experience than I."

Such an attitude of submissiveness grated on Anne's nerves. There was no way this child would survive the games at Court if she was unwilling to take any kind of chance. If she was unable to stand up for herself, she would never keep her honorable name, the only thing of worth she had. Anne was about to reply, when Mary walked in, looking flushed and slightly disheveled. Her blue eyes lightened even more when she saw Anne.

"Anne! Welcome at last to Court," she greeted her, "I trust you journeyed in safety and comfort. The roads and weather are dreadful, aren't they?"

"I can't complain," she smiled, though it felt stiff. Returning her hug, she stepped back to look Mary with critical eyes "The Queen received me well. How have you been?"

A momentary shadow crossed her face before it was smoothed out, leaving only her animated happiness showing. "I have so much to share with you for there has been much excitement. You, girl," she pointed to Jane.

"Yes, my lady?" she asked, curtsying. "How may I help you?"

"Please, gather some refreshments for my sister and I," she ordered, barely sparing Jane a look.

"Very well, my lady," her response was just as it should be but Anne found herself wanting to shake the girl, to tell her that she was a lady. She should not act so subservient to Mary. They were both of similar rank. Jane's behavior was eerily reminiscent of Claude's whenever she was with her mother-in-law. Another pang of homesickness filled her.

The smile she gave her sister was definitely forced as they sat near the window, a small table between them. The Bible rested upon it, showing much usage. It was one of the few personal belongings Anne had seen ever since she had entered the room. The only thing giving any sign of what was prominent and honored. She was not really surprised for it was well known that Queen Katharine was a pious and godly woman – who expected those in her retinue to live in similar fashion.

As she listened to Mary chatter on, Anne let her mind wander along other paths. Her head nodded, as though she was paying attention. It wasn't that hard, she'd heard much of this gossip already as she'd walked along the halls towards the Queen's Chambers.

Jane silently served them before disappearing into one of the rooms.

Mary finally ended her talk with news of Princess Mary's masquerade. "It'll be like the Shrovetide, only without the religious ceremony. I know that we'll be participating. Who do you think you shall be asked to play?"

She shrugged, sipping a bit of her tea before adding some sugar to it to ease the bitter flavor. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does!" Mary sounded shocked that Anne even asked such a thing. "After you had been pulled out of the Festival last time, this is your chance to, not only meet King Henry, but to make up for your behavior with the young Percy."

"We did nothing wrong, Mary," she replied. It took every ounce of strength Anne had to hold back the other words that sprang to her lips. King or not, she'd rather have a good man than a powerful, arrogantly careless one. Her heart twisted and she hoped that Henry would gain his father's approval for their union. With the Earl behind them, they could approach the King with a strong ally.

Of course, it would help matters if they had a pre-contract between them. But Percy's honor and dignity would not allow him to ask her before he sought his father's council.

"It was enough for father to send you away in disgrace," she retorted. "I hope you do not intend to continue to carry on with him."

Making no reply, she glanced around and changed the subject, "Is there any other news?" She hoped not for she felt ready to drop. For all that the journey had been smooth, she was exhausted.

Mary leaned forward, already letting the subject drop. She really wasn't one for confrontation. Head incanted so that she could keep an eye out for eavesdroppers, "I think that I may be with child," she whispered, eyes shinning with both shame and happiness.

"Really?" she asked, suddenly wide awake and totally aware. "What are your feelings upon the matter?"

Mary was silent. Her hand resting on her flat belly. "Father wishes me to dispose of the child if I am indeed enceinte. As he says, I cannot lose the King's affections until you have managed to capture them. And nothing will turn him away faster than my bearing a child. I only have to look at what happened to Lady Talboys to know my fate."

The bitterness of her voice did not escape Anne. She flinched back, "I don't want him – ever."

"Once you meet him, you'll change your mind," her response was cynical but knowing. "I thought I'd never fall into another's bed after Francis. Yet, here I am, bound to his bed." She shook her head, chiding her, "Don't be such a fool, Anne, not when it comes to the King. He is not a boy nor is he a toy to be played with."

"I will not become his whore for our family's sake," she hissed.

Mary slapped her, almost surprised by her action. But she wouldn't sit there and listen as _her own sister_ disparaged her honor. If she herself felt no shame in what she did, why did Anne? "It is an honor to serve the King in any capacity. Never forget that," she warned, leaving the room.

Anne sat, stunned by Mary's action. Her face stung under her hand. Leaning forward, she buried her face in her arms. A sigh escaped her, knowing that her words would get back to her father. Thomas' reaction would be far worse. _I did not send you away only for you to think you are more than what I will allow you to be_, she could almost hear him in her mind.

"Are you feeling all right, Lady Anne?"

She didn't even raise her head. "I am related to a whore and my father expects me to become one myself instead of living the way I wish to." Dead silence met her words and she finally looked up, noting the dead white of Jane's face. There was no sense of perverse joy at the sight. "Shocked you, have I? Mayhap you should go home for you are far too young for Court life."

"Indeed you have for you sound as though you have plans that are of your own making," Jane's voice was faint. Her knees trembled knowing that she was looking at one who could shake the foundations of their world if she tried. There was just something about her that spoke of determination and a will to carry it out. "Are you not afraid of what may happen to you if you live contrary to the way nature has designed you to live?"

"Nature has never required that I whore myself out, Lady Jane," her reply was dry. Her next words were simple, direct. "Do sit down, all of your hovering is making me nervous. And, yes, I have plans for my life. My experiences have taught me that I deserve to be more than a man's cast off."

Jane studied her, shaking her head as she sat down across from her. "These words you speak are strange to my hearing for a woman's duty is to serve a man, to be a wife and mother. To serve as his comfort and companion, to love and honor him all his days, no matter what he does. It is not for us to dictate to a man what he should and should not do, we are to learn from him and obey him."

"You really are naive, Lady Jane," she scorned her, ruthlessly suppressing her feelings. And the memories that Jane brought up of happier times and the place she'd rather be. "We are more than adornments for a man's arm and ego. The only thing that limits us are men and their view of us and our capabilities."

"How can you believe such things?" she asked, utterly and completely appalled. "You speak as though a man isn't necessary. It is against the natural order."

Anne shook her head. "Have you never heard of Louise of Savoy? Until Francis came of age, she was his Regent. How about Margaret of Navarre? Her father, the Holy Roman Emperor, relies on her for counsel. And how can you discount our own Queen Katharine's mother, the Queen Isabel? You cannot deny her strength and character. Nor can you deny that she ruled Castile in her own right. Her husband, Ferdinand, was a _co_-regent with her. Even our Queen has ruled England in her own right, in wisdom and strength.

"I do admit that some women are unworthy to wield such power," she reluctantly conceded the point before it could be brought up. "Juana is far from able to rule her country and Queen Maud was a disaster. But there were and are extenuating reasons that have caused both to suffer. On the whole, though, there are far more capable women who could do more than they have been allowed to."

"It is not that I do not believe that you have several points, my Lady, but you forget that these women have the power and positions that they do because they have powerful men backing them. On their own, they would not be allowed to do as they have done. It is men who have given them what they have – and keep them there."

Anne visibly winced. Jane's words had echoed her own thoughts from earlier. She could hardly argue against the points she had thought up herself. Except to point out one thing, "That is true for all of them save one – Queen Isabel."

"Isn't she a case of being the exception, not the rule?"

It was true. The only way a woman could rise on her own was to sell what she had – her body. But to do so was to lose any honor that a woman possessed. A powerful, double-edged sword for once they had risen, there was only one way to keep that position. If they started with the King, they had no one higher to reach for.

And no man – especially one of any quality – wanted a man's cast off, even if it was the king.

***

_Still not sure how I feel about this, I may have to go back and revise it before moving on._


	3. Anne's Reflections Upon Meeting Henry

_Author's Note: I do apologize for the delay but as anyone who's looked up my stories has noted, I have a definite fantasy bent to most of my works. My muse keeps trying to put in the Watcher's Council (from BtVS) b/c I've often wondered if the governments know of their existence. So far, I've managed to wrestle the idea away. I don't know how long that'll last though.  
__Plus, I've been really struggling with the 'this is from Anne's recollection' of the past' point of view and trying to work around it. The only solution I've come up with is that it switches from past to 'future' every once in a while, bringing in others and their view of my girls. I really hope it works.  
__If I were take a poll of Henry's favorite wife based on his opinions – and no one else's, I'd say it was…answer at the end of the chapter.  
__Thank you to all of my loyal readers and reviewers. You are the most patient people to bear with me as you so wonderfully do. Thanks, you make it worth it_.

654321

Anne stood with the other ladies, rather shaken after that encounter with King Henry, though it had been an hour ago. It galled her to admit it but her sister was right. Mary's words had not held even a little bit of falsehood within them.

King Henry did possess a raw sensuality that drew one in. He was definitely a man in every sense of the word. A man who was completely in charge of his own image – and he, unfortunately, knew it and how to use it to his best advantage. That scared her more than she thought it would.

"Water, Lady Anne?"

Hearing Jane's familiar voice, she relaxed minutely. Much to Anne's startled relief, the girl was still at Court. Consciously she told herself that it was because her brother had not yet left for the Court of the Emperor Charles. Privately, she had fears that it had more to do with Jane's situation with that boy, Will. For she had thought that when her cousin, the Lord Arsinoë had left, she would be joining him.

After all, asking his help had been the reason she had come with her brother to Court in the first place.

"No," she shook her head. "I need to get out of here for a moment. I can barely think in here and I need to."

"But the King will expect to see you with the other dancers," Jane sounded positively scandalized by the idea of her skipping out.

"Please, Jane," the raw desperation touched the younger girl's heart.

With a courage that surprised them both, Jane nodded. "This way," she tugged Anne's arm. They snuck out of a side door, one that only servants used.

"We'll get caught," Anne warned, feeling dizzy with relief as the press of expectation and people disappeared behind the closing door. Though she felt sure that they would get in trouble, she couldn't stop that feeling.

"Only a few people are allowed to traverse this hallway," Jane said, sounding somewhat smug in her knowledge. "The musicians are already in the Hall. This garden was set aside by the Queen herself for those who need a moment of air. Besides, you're in costume. They will think there's a surprise number coming up, in honor of the Princess Maria and her betrothal to the Emperor Charles."

Anne took another look at her companion, rather surprised by the almost gleeful look there. "Thought about this a lot, have you?" she asked, instantly suspecting a trap and coming to a stop. Her slippered feet slowed as much as they could, trying to slow their progression.

It would not have surprised her had her father found out about her surprising affection for Jane and used the girl's innocence to help him get her to ensnare the King's affections. He had stooped to such actions before.

But then, as now, she would not be caught unaware.

A burst of gay laughter escaped her suddenly mischievous guide. "No, it just seems like something a girl in a story would do. Mind you, the girl is usually going forth to meet the Prince, not fleeing from him in disdain. Well, not unless she has a good reason for it," she thoughtfully added, recalling the story of Cinderwench who had to leave before midnight.

Or end up in rags in front of everyone. A situation that Jane, through her friendship with Anne, was coming to believe had more to do with emotional nakedness than physical. "Come along, if we tarry for too long, we will get some looks."

"Considering how the Princes act towards those women," she muttered fiercely, "I would think they would desire better."

They stepped outside and breathed in, enjoying the small kitchen garden. "I don't quite understand you, Lady Anne. Any other Lady would be begging to fill your shoes, for you are extra-ordinarily blessed with intelligence and mystique. Many of the males at Court fall over themselves trying to catch your attention, even the poet Wyatt is in your thrall. Although, I am not sure of the wisdom of courting his attention as his past is rather…scandalous."

"But that is the point, Jane, to be noticed," her voice was quietly sarcastic as she walked in front of her, stepping out fully into the night. "Haven't you noticed the other ladies doing the exact same thing? The law of the Court is to get noticed, to be the center of everyone's attention."

"But you don't want to be noticed," she pointed out, shutting the door behind the, enclosing them in the small garden. The bugs chirped and flew about, pausing only momentarily on their skin before moving on. "And yet, you do your best to encourage it –though you do not enjoy any of the adulation you receive from those about you."

"Law of the Court," her voice was ironic sounding.

"Don't you find that in the least bit odd?" she asked.

"Would you enjoy it from those who wish you dishonor?" she asked, sitting down on the damp ground and pulling off her mask. The bright red was in sharp contrast to the green of the grass. It looked forlorn as it rested there, alone. The early evening dew seeped through the thin fabric and she knew it would stain but she paid it little heed.

Its coolness felt good against her heated skin. After being inside the boiling hot of the palace rooms – and the intensity of the King's presence, she needed to breathe and feel something real. Though cold, the dew and the scent of earth cleansed her. What she couldn't quite understand was how being in the English Court could make her feel so trapped while the French Court, with its same trappings, had felt homier.

Hearing a gasp, she looked up at Jane, ready to ask snidely if there was a problem. The words stuck in her throat, she was struck by how unnatural the other girl looked in the moonlight, almost like a ghostly vision.

Her blonde hair took on an oddly bright shimmer of silken gold, highlighting the highly prized English paleness of her skin. The bluish green of her eyes that seemed so serene during the day held another aspect in the darkness. Standing in a moonbeam, even in that hideous virginal gown she had to wear, she captured one's attention and held it.

If it hadn't been blasphemy, she would have compared the girl to a moon goddess. Jane was far more attractive than even she had thought she could be.

She did not know that Jane was thinking the same of her, how very otherworldly Anne appeared to be in the moonlight. Her silken hair, always such a lovely shade of black, looked dark blue in this light with the shadowed light of the moon captured by the twists and knots twining about her heard. The dark eyes that so intrigued men looked far more mysterious and seductive at night.

Yet, there was a militant glint in them that sent shivers running through Jane. Anne resembled a fabled warrior goddess, powerful and beautiful in that certain way that the most confident of people were.

She was reminded suddenly of the legendary Boudicca, a woman she wasn't supposed to know about because of her 'unnaturalness' as a woman.

Jane stifled a second gasp at her blasphemous thoughts. "I am different than you, such a situation is not likely to happen to me. I am lucky to have even one suitor for my hand, though his success is in doubt. Than anyone else here at Court, for a plain, almost ugly girl like me could never reach as high as a beautiful lady like you," she demurred, shocked by Anne's laugh.

It sounded almost plaintive in the night, rather than gay – or bitter.

"You think that I am a great beauty?" her words were arch. "I've been called many things, but never that." Unlike her laugh, there was bitterness to the words.

Anne knew full well what men and women thought of her. She knew that her rather unfashionably dark appearance had often turned men away. How they compared her to the obvious blond and bounteous curves of the beautiful Mary. When she'd been younger, she'd envied her sister her looks.

At one time, she would've given anything to be as Mary.

It was one of the many things she'd had to learn to overcome while studying with Margaret and then in the Court of France, around such beauties. This thought that she would never measure up to the standards of beauty that the world had set. It was something she had pushed out of her mind by cultivating other aspects of her personality.

And she'd observed what it was about other females that drew men. Over time, she realized – mainly because of her tutor - that her eyes were compelling. If she could catch the men with them, she'd never lose them. Her figure had become another feature of pride, though slender, it was pleasing to the male eye.

At least, until she'd learned how to draw them in and keep them in her thrall.

Jane blushed and looked away, scuffing the ground with her shoe. Struggling with her words, "I didn't say…I mean, you are…Oh! Why must you tease me so? I know that you are not considered a beauty by conventional standards but you have an appealing look to you. There's something about you that is a natural draw, I just wish…"

"Yes?" Anne asked, intrigued by Jane's take on her. Usually, the Ladies at Court wanted her to disappear even as they tried to emulate her. The English Court had a dreadful French envy – and she was the embodiment of it. She thought she knew the younger girl well enough to believe that she didn't want to be Anne.

To anyone listening, it sounded as though Jane wouldn't mind being her.

But Anne sensed that it was something else – Jane just wanted more confidence in herself. That was something that no other being had wanted from Anne. They wanted her style, her grace, and her way with men – never had they wanted to be as confident as she was. They also wanted her to be meek and submissive, to just instantly obey and do what they wanted.

She found she rather liked the idea of some one not envying her style, but her confidence.

Jane glanced over at Anne, noting the look in her eyes. "You told me that it is impolite to fish for compliments, my lady, for it revealed a desperation that was unattractive," her reply was uncharacteristically sharp. "Accept them with grace and dignity but never fish about for them."

Anne laughed again, one that was more natural sounding, "Oh, I know – but I adore watching you twit yourself about so ridiculously. You are wondrously entertaining, Jane."

"I am glad one of us finds me so," she replied, relieved to hear the familiar laugh once again.

"Oh, Jane, don't pout. It's as unattractive as fishing about for compliments is. As is putting yourself down so terribly," she reminded her of her earlier words.

"I only speak truth," she protested.

She'd heard all her life about how plain, how boring she was. Her mother had remarked that it was a good thing they didn't have to worry about marrying off the girls in order – otherwise, they'd never get any of them married off once it came to Jane. And her slouching and hiding in corners didn't help matters any – nor did her habit of following her brothers about.

While hurt, she'd pushed it aside, devoting herself to becoming the perfect image of what a man wanted from a wife, hoping that would be enough. Her mother had seemed pleased to see her dedicate herself to such a cause.

And she tried to ignore the fact that her younger sister looked like her and yet, was far prettier.

"Beauty is part nature – and part a matter of self image. The rest can be brought about by artifice," her words were matter of fact. It was something one of her teachers had told her when she'd been comparing herself to Mary and only finding herself lacking in everything that made Mary so beautiful. It was a lesson Anne had never forgotten and had quickly taken to heart – because she'd found it to be true. "You make yourself far more unattractive than you really are by the way dress."

Jane looked down at her white dress, unadorned and lacking the sharp cut that Anne's had. Even though it was a costume, it was an example of the smart outfits that Anne always wore. That many others in the Court wore, she was aware of several girls her age who were trying to convince their parents to let them dress so. "It is the proper dress for one of my age and standing."

"You don't need to dress scandalously in order to dress appealingly," Anne said with a shake of her head. "I am not so foolish as to suggest such a thing."

"Then what are you saying?" she asked.

"Just that…" Whatever wisdom she was about to impart stopped when Edward Seymour arrived.

Anne had not known what to make of him from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. In her vast experience with men, she had never met anyone she felt such instant distrust towards. Detestation at first sight was something she'd never heard said before but it fit their situation perfectly.

It was no secret that he felt the same way about her. That may have more to do with the fact that she saw right through him and wouldn't play his games. And while one could detest someone and yet, use them, she could never act so with him. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about it. He'd tried to get into her circle of admirers – and she shut him out cold.

As a result, he was as insulting towards her as he could politely get away with. If there was one thing she was actually grateful towards her father for, it was that nothing to scurrilous could be said about her because of her father's powerful position.

And, of course, there was the fact that her sister was known to be tight with the King.

In all the Courts she'd been in, she'd never met such a cold fish like him. And though Jane was far too polite to say it – and her adoration for her older brother prevented it – she knew that there would be accord between them on this. While she may be blinded by the closeness she and George shared, she knew that none of it existed between the Seymour siblings.

It was beyond her understanding how any older brother could be so uncaring towards their sister.

Of course, Jane had a close relationship with her father, one that Anne envied. From what she had heard of him, she could not imagine that Sir John would do to Jane what her own father was doing to her – and had done to Mary. Looking into Edward's ice cold blue eyes – so similar and yet, so unlike the blue of Jane's that it made her uneasy – she could easily see him doing so.

And Jane would placidly go along with it, just as she did everything else. To Jane, it would be nothing more than doing what she was told was her duty. No matter how she may _personally_ feel about it, doing her duty seemed to be the only thing that gave the girl courage and strength. Anne wondered just what had happened to her to make her so…so subservient. She knew there was more to Jane than she allowed the world to see.

"What are you doing?" his voice was unpleasant, rather hard sounding.

"Taking in the night air for it is stifling inside," she stepped back, as if trying to fade into the wall.

Edward sneered, "With that person?"

The contempt for her companion hung heavy in his voice. While true he had tried to get in good with her in the beginning, he realized quickly that she was of no use to him. Her French ways rubbed him wrong. And he still stung from the way that she had showed him up intellectually. Like most men in his circles, he had little use for a woman who knew more than she should. Education ruined a woman, making them manly.

He valiantly ignored the voice inside that said his irritation with her had more to do with pride and less to do with Anne herself.

Instead, he focused on Anne, with her broad _European_ education. She was one of those women he felt was a danger to the stability of the English kingdom. He'd heard various rumors that she was questionable when it came to religion. It was even spoken in whispers that she even had read the works of Martin Luther and found them to be most pleasing.

Any one like that was no one his sister should be associating with.

It mystified him that the Queen would allow the two to have any kind of association. One would have thought that she would show more common sense. But then, she was an educated woman. It had to have done something bad to her mind for her to believe that it was all right to encourage them in such a fashion.

Again, he ignored the voice that told him he was being more prideful than logical.

"Please, don't talk to or about the Lady Anne like that, Edward. She has done nothing to earn your derision," Jane's voice was a firm as she could make it sound.

His icy smile chilled Anne. It occurred to her that he might not be quite so kind in his next action which was not something she wished upon Jane – especially over her. Rising to her feet, she made to interfere but his words cut her off.

Again.

It was beginning to annoy her.

"Jane, you are coming with me now. Father will not be happy that you have disobeyed his orders to stay away from people like her."

"Father told me no such thing," she protested, wincing when he grabbed her arm, pulling her back inside with him.

"He did not believe it necessary as his instructions were for you to act modestly. To be discreet and a credit to the family. It is the only way to make sure that the Dormers look favorably upon any union between us and them," his smug voice made Anne's hand itch and she was grateful the door shut behind him.

The last thing she wished to do was alienate Jane. And she knew that slapping Edward – no matter how much the cretin was begging for it- would do just that. Although, she reflected, Jane's quiet defense of her showed that she was starting to gain that loyalty for herself.

Idly playing with some of the leaves, she wondered what to do with herself now. Consciously she knew that she should return to the hall for the rest of the evening. The Queen would have noticed her absence by now, if she hadn't already retired to her nightly prayers.

Besides, the King had definitely been intrigued by her. If she didn't return after that, her father would be very displeased with her. But whether it was because of the heat of the moment or it was genuine interest, she could not say for sure. Whatever it was, it was not something she was happy about encouraging.

Everything inside of her longed for Percy's imminent arrival. She chaffed at the delay, fearing only bad news kept him from returning when he'd been scheduled to do so. Still, it was to be hoped that he was merely delayed by travel conditions. That when he came back, he would bring with him good news.

Now that the situation with Piers had been successfully torn asunder due to her father's stubbornness and his father's pride, there was nothing standing in their way. She resolutely ignored the King's possible intentions towards her person, her father's very real attitude of dominating her life with his actions - and the fact that there was a half-contract already between Percy's father and one of his neighbors.

If they could be wed, she might be able to bear the King's attention with a good deal more grace than she felt. Queen Katharine's gracious attitude towards the King's affairs gave her hope for she knew that theirs was a union based on mutual respect and love. So it had to be true. The love of a good man could make even the most untenable situation easier to endure.

She resolutely closed her mind to the possibility that the Duke might say no.

_654321_

_Boy, some of that came out far slashier than I had intended. I do apologize and hope I have__n't offended anyone, but that is what my muse was saying. I was trying to draw parallels in that neither of these women were beautiful in the traditional sense – especially dark eyed Anne for when she came to Court, blue eyed, blonds were the rage. (Actually, I don't think that preference has ever disappeared.)  
__And Jane was considered almost homely in looks but that there __**had**__ to be something physically about her that caught the eye. Henry is not exactly about seeing the inside of one first, he sees the outward appearance first. Well, every rendition I've seen of when Henry becomes aware of Jane's, uhm, potential sexiness, they've always been shadowed by fire. So, I made it an outside, night scene in which Anne makes the observation of Jane.  
__And Jane makes her observations of Anne. One of the things I liked about The Tudors (the show, obviously) is that none of the wives were like gorgeous, there was something about them but they all looked normal.  
__Yes, the whole Edward and Jane sibling relationship is based more on the show than history in which I guess that they were close, much like George and Anne were. I wanted to show different familial relationships. EG, Jane and Edward were not close, but she and her dad were. Whereas Anne and her father were not, while she and George were. Hope it works out all right._

_**Answer - Henry himself**. (Not who anyone was expecting, right?) lol What say you, loyal readers?_


	4. With Regards towards Queen Katharine

_Author's Note: I have placed the 'future' timelines in 1535/1536. These take place after the infamous joust in which Henry was injured – but Anne didn't lose the child (for obvious reasons). That child would be Edward. So, basically, some of this is in the past and some of it is in the 'present'. If it proves to be too confusing, please let me know and I will try something else. And Mary (Henry's daughter) is called Maria, for my peace of mind.  
And my Elizabeth is **far** from realistic. I'll have to work on that._

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Lady Maria was sitting beside the Princess Elizabeth, pondering the scene outside the window. The clouds rolled aimlessly by in the dark gray of the sky. It seemed appropriate for her mood was rather grim. And confused.

In her left hand was a letter from her father, the King – the man she was not supposed to think of in such a manner as he had rendered her an illegitimate child. One could not stop the way things were, though. He was her father and none of his ridiculous acts of law could change that fact.

"Lady Maria, the Ambassador Chapuys is here to see you," one of the maids said.

Glancing down at Elizabeth, she noticed that the girl was studiously working on something. She knew the child well enough to know that it was only a front. "I'll be right back, Elizabeth. For once, would you please remain here and not eavesdrop on a conversation that does not concern you?"

The girl looked up at her.

Within that innocent face of a child, those eyes looked up at her with intelligence gleaming in their depths seemed far to adult and disquieting. It reminded her uncomfortably of the rumors of witchcraft she'd heard spoken of Anne. "If it concerns either my mother or the Lady Jane, it concerns us. The same is true if he is speaking to you of the King, _**OUR**_ father. I do not see any reason to keep me out of it."

"You are far to grown-up as it is, Elizabeth. Please, stop rushing yourself into adulthood," Maria pleaded. Rising, she walked out and down the hall, wondering what the Ambassador wanted to speak with her about. If the Lady Jane had died, she would have heard of it already. "Ambassador," she greeted him, waving his attempt to act as though she still bore the title of Princess of Wales off.

To her detriment, she'd learned that the walls had unfriendly ears. And, while Elizabeth was open and generous in heart, that she wanted to call her princess and acknowledge their sibling status, there were others who felt otherwise. Even those that shared her hatred of the new regime, did not wish to see her reinstated as heir to the throne. "Is something wrong with his Majesty, the King?"

"As far as I know, he remains healthy," he replied, his accent sounding welcoming to her ears.

How she had missed that sound. The beautiful, melodious sound that was so different from the way everyone – including herself – spoke. While she loved his visits, she hated them as well for he made her miss her mother anew. "Then would it be news of the Lady Anne?"

As much as she wished to use another name for her, she would not. Not with Elizabeth in earshot – and the ever present, untrustworthy servants surrounding her. It would not take much to find herself on the executioner's block. As she was no longer being acknowledged as an official royal, she was not protected by that status.

"She is well," he said.

"Oh, no. Not Edward," she gasped out the words.

As much as it pained her, the birth of the long awaited boy had opened up her father's heart to her once more. And the Great Whore had not been able to stop him from writing to her once again. She ignored the voice inside that said it was unkind to call someone such a horrid name, that it was beneath her.

"The boy is still sickly," he replied, "As is the Lady Jane. They both yet live," he was quick to reassure her. He had yet to understand just _why_ the Princess Maria had such a fondness for the girl. All they shared in common was their faith. And he had his doubts about the Lady Jane's true devotion. She was, after all, friends with the woman who'd set the King at war against the church.

"Oh, thank the saints and the Holy Mother," Maria whispered. "What news have you for me if not of them?"

"Can I not just be visiting?" he asked.

"No," Elizabeth baldly stated. "You always have a reason."

"What did I ask you not to do?" Maria asked, exasperated with the girl but helpless to do anything about her. The only power she held over the girl was what had been granted to her. It would be more to her harm should she try to discipline her in any fashion. Even her scolding words had to be carefully chosen.

"Not to listen in," she answered with a shrug.

"Then why did you disobey me?"

"It's only bad listening if something is going on that shouldn't be."

"Who told you that?" Chapuys asked, strangely admiring of the girl.

"Uncle Bryan," she said, ignoring Maria's gasp at her mentioning the infamous Sir Francis Bryan. A man with a reputation almost as unpalatable to people as Queen Anne's. Of course, he wasn't _really_ her uncle; it was just easier to call him that. "What was Queen Katharine like?"

The two exchanged wary looks. While Chapuys was surprised by Elizabeth's giving Katharine her rightful title, he knew that he had to correct her. If only for the Princess Maria's sake. He knew that the Queen would understand his reasons. All that she had ever done was to protect her Maria, in doing this, he would be doing so.

But it didn't mean he had to like saying them.

And so, it was with a greatly pained conscience that he said, the words tasting of ashes and dust upon his tongue. "You know that she has been named Princess of Wales, Princess."

"She ruled as Queen even if father says she was only a consort. She keeps her title with me," she told him matter of factly. "So, what was she like?"

"She was a great Queen," he replied.

Elizabeth stamped her foot. "That is not what I meant, Ambassador Chapuys. A lot of people are great, many of them are not known. Many of them were great in horrible ways. One could say much of the leaders of the past who were considered great but whose actions are disgusting to us. So, why is she so different? Why is Queen Katharine remembered so fondly? What did she do that made her so great?

"You say she was a great queen, did that mean that she was only great as a ruler? Was she lacking some way in the personal department? Was she perfect? If so, why is the King so set against a girl ruling? It seems to me that he knows a woman could rule and rule well, so what went wrong to make his mind be set against women rulers?

"Well?" she demanded, "Why don't you answer me?"

Chapuys sighed, exchanging another look with Maria. "You'd best answer her. She won't rest until she gets an answer. And yes, she is smart for her age. I was also," she reminded him of that truth. It was perhaps the only real thing that connected her to Elizabeth – besides their mutual father. Their sharp intelligence that had been revealed at such a young age. It had made them both odd and yet, had given Maria a way to be at ease with the girl. Though she did not like being a servant in a hostile household, the lessons of Elizabeth kept her own mind sharp. "Perhaps we should sit down."

"Outside," Elizabeth suggested. "It's cloudy but harder to hear what we're saying."

It still took him a moment to compose himself. As they walked outside, he noticed that the sky was starting to clear. He wondered if he would ever get used to the peculiar weather of England. "To answer your questions, no. She wasn't perfect. There is only one person who was perfect and to suggest that Queen Katharine was so is blasphemous."

"Most think I'm a devil child begotten by evil magic anyway," she shrugged. "What? I am not as ignorant of the rumors as you would have me believe, Maria. I am fully aware of what you feel about my mother. Just because I am young does not mean that I am deaf or blind. But I apologize if I have greatly offended you, Ambassador."

"The Queen was generous to everyone she met, not because it was in the rule book but because she felt compassion for them. When she came to England, she was still a little girl. But England became her home, regardless of the way she was treated after the death of the Prince Arthur. As the daughter of the Kings of Spain, she was more than up to any challenge thrown her way.

"But there was more to it than that. She was a devout woman," he sighed. "To devout some would say for the King is not quite so dedicated."

"What would you say?"

Chapuys was silent. "I would say that it gave her strength and was her refuge when she most needed it."

"Then her devotion was not groundless," Elizabeth said. "Tell me more."

"What is it you wish to know? For Queen Katharine's life could fill a book," he said.

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment, and then looked up at Maria, knowing this question may cause her pain. It was the last thing she wished and yet, it was something she wanted to know. "Why did she let Lady Jane and my mother be paired if she was aware that my mother was a viper? Was it not her duty to protect her ladies from danger and not put them directly in the line of fire?"

It took a moment for him to regain control over his instinctual reaction to snap that it was not the fault of Queen Katharine that the viper had spread her poison to others. That the child should not speak so ignorantly of that which she in her infantile mind could not comprehend.

"I think I know," Maria's voice was quiet, restrained. "It was because mother thought that Jane would help Anne."

"She was the kind to think of others first," he agreed. "But what she thought the Lady Jane could do against one with the intelligence of Lady Anne, I do not know."

654321

_Past_

Katharine sat up in bed, thinking over the events of the past few days. A frown marred her still pretty face, though it was lined with the age, cares of the world, and bitter experience that had prematurely aged her. Once more, her bed was empty of her husband. She knew that he would not come to her tonight.

He rarely did anymore.

It had not escaped her attention, though she tried to close her eyes to it, that Henry's once vibrant love was dissipating, leaving only dissatisfaction for her behind in its wake. Oh, it was true that he still loved her.

But it was the love one had for a comfortable piece of furniture or an old family friend.

Her charming Prince, the rogue who had rescued her from the drudgery of her bereavement and poverty, was drawing further away from her because she could not give him a son. She had been faithful and steadfast, devout in her devotion to him and her adoptive country, never wavering for an instant.

In the midst of England's greatest crisis, she had led the way to victory while he was away in fighting a battle of his own in France. They had been victorious, though in her private moments of pride, she knew that hers was the greater victory of the two. He had won by mere happenstance while she had defended his country from a greater threat.

But this great victory was for naught.

For she had failed him and her beloved country in her most important duty. She had given him no son to carry on his name and to bear the crown. It was a shame she bore with as much dignity as she could manage while her heart felt torn inside at the pain she was causing him and all of their country.

For while he loved their darling, their most beloved Princess Maria, she was still not the son and heir the English needed to feel secure.

Katharine could have wept for her failure, for her bereavement, but she had shed enough tears over this that another one could not fall. As always, she turned to God and His word for comfort. For a solution to this most untenable situation for she could bare all things, save seeing her beloved husband suffer because of her failure. Knowing that her people would be riddled with doubt because she had failed to give them the security they needed.

Her Spanish Ladies could not understand why the English were so harsh, so unforgiving of this failure to produce a son. To them, it was nothing out of the ordinary for a woman to inherit the throne. It had been quite a struggle for Katharine herself to accept the fact that in England, things for women were very different.

They feared a woman in power for there had been a brutal civil war when Matilda had tried to enforce her right to the throne. A brutal civil war she knew lived on in the minds of the English, though it was more a specter chasing them than a real possibility. She knew Henry feared for his people, feared that there would be much political strife should a woman ascend to the throne.

That the country would, once again, be torn apart by divided loyalties. As a King, he had every right to be concerned with such matters.

More than that, he was haunted by his flight with his mother to the tower when his father had gone into battle against the imposter, Perkin Warbeck. The question of male succession was no light matter to the English.

To them, it was a matter of survival.

So, to the scriptures she turned and found hope in the story of Sarah and Abraham. Was it possible that, if she continued to be faithful and endure all things that God set before her, she would be blessed with a son in her old age?

She had allowed another to be with her husband, to take her place, as Sarah had allowed Hagar to be with Abraham. Granted, it had been without her vocal consent. But she had never taken him to task for straying, so that had to count as unspoken consent, right?

And, like Sarah, this other woman had had a son – a boy, the young Ishmael – by Abraham. The thought of Bessie's son gave her both chills of dread and the delight that came with a child. And yet, she was happy for the mother, for a child was a blessing from God.

If Henry would come to her again as a husband should, would they be blessed by God with a living son as the great Abraham and Sarah had been?

Rising from the bed, Katharine knelt down and prayed for the strength to endure the trials God had given her. She prayed that they would be blessed with a son to guide and protect the people she had come to love. She prayed for Henry's welfare, for him to have wisdom to rightly serve and protect his people. She prayed for an answer to this dilemma that robbed her of sleep, that riddled her husband with doubts.

And she prayed for her Maids of Honor, especially the young and sophisticated Anne Boleyn. Of all her ladies, Anne was the one Katharine felt the most pity for. The one she felt was in need of the most help and protection. The girl, for all of her grace, seemed like a lamb dropped among hungry and encircling wolves.

And she prayed that she was right in her belief that Jane was who Anne needed the most. Though quiet and far from being at ease with herself, there was something about that girl that said she was special, she was needed. If only to be a friend to Anne.

From personal experience, she knew the power of a friend.


	5. King Henry and Thomas Cromwell Talk Shop

_Authors' note: Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. I'm trying to keep updated but things have gotten wild at work due to the holidays. I found out about "The Book Royal" from studying a few books on the lives of Henry's wives._

_654321_

King Henry stood at the window, staring out at nothing. His household was rife with illness and he had – as proscribed by "_The Book Royal_" – left for a safer location. His wife, on the other hand, ignored that rule which stated most emphatically that royals were not to be around illness or death.

Thinking about that shy little thing who helped make his marriage far more comfortable than it otherwise was – he hadn't realized just how possessive Anne was when he'd perused her – he could understand just why she did it. He was tempted to do the same himself, just to ensure his continued comfort in this marriage.

Minister Cromwell cleared his throat, "Is everything well, sire? The Queen has not fallen ill because of her continued visits to Miss Seymour, has she?" Even though bad blood had recently fallen between the two, his dark eyes were full of concern for the woman who'd helped him make a rather meteoric rise in Court. Though he regretted the loss of his mentor, the Cardinal Wolsey, he did not regret moving further up in the ranks.

"The Queen is well," he replied. "Thank you for asking after her. I take it that you are over your upset with her?" It was a pointed reminder of the blazing row between them that the King had walked in on. It made for a very uncomfortable situation for him to have his wife and his confidant at odds with the man who helped him run things in the political and religious arena.

As good as the Archbishop was, he did not have the same kind of grasp on things that Cromwell had – event that Wolsey had. And, while this had made him excellent in the matter of the divorce, it made it hard to work out the way this new religion should develop.

"It was not one of my best moments, sire," he admitted with a casual shrug. "As I was told, only a fool ignores the wise counsel of one who shares a like mind."

"That doesn't sound like Anne," Henry commented, half turning to face him.

"At the risk of sounding imprudent, sire, your wife is far too sure of herself to bother with notions of equality," he replied with a half smile.

"That sounds more like an accusation, Cromwell," he warned icily, voice low with a threat.

Thomas scoffed. "Of all the things the Queen could be accused of, treason is _**not**_ one of them."

"Do you really believe that? Or is it something you think I want you to say?" he asked. Stepping away from the window, he studied the smaller man's expression, trying to see something in the weathered face that would reveal to him the motives behind Cromwell's words.

"I hold to the belief that one should never say something one cannot believe," his reply was neutral, realizing that he was on dangerous ground.

"Mmm," it was a non-committal response. There was some truth to the Minister's words, Anne would never be deliberately treasonous. But she might inadvertently be so as a result of her ignoring the very rules she'd studied in "_The Book Royal_".

He knew she had read and studied it, she'd followed it with regards to her coronation. Not only had she wanted to make a statement, to show that she was his Queen in every regard, she had wanted to do him and the English people credit. She wanted them to be able to look up to her in love and respect.

But she was far too fond of participating in the Courts of Love to leave it to others and merely chaperone her ladies. It was something he knew that the Lady Jane kept an eye on and was constant in her role of mediating Anne's sharp tongue and her wit with others.

He was not as unaware of the rumors swirling about the two ladies as those at the Court thought he was.

It was not from ignorance that he refused to act. Rather, he was being selfish. It hadn't taken him long to realize that Anne was as passionate and un-subdued after the marriage as she had been as his mistress. While those qualities had been desirous in a mistress, they were not wanted in a wife. It was only upon returning from an extended honeymoon that he'd witnessed Jane's calming affect upon his wife.

She helped bring peace to their marriage that he liked. Anne had all of his passion, his lust, and even his hot tempered love.

But Jane had all of his kindness. She brought out another side of his personality, one he'd not thought he had for anyone but his beloved sister Mary, his daughter Maria, and the mourned Dowager Princess Katharine who had sacrificed her life to save the woman who was destroying hers. Her honor shamed him when he remembered her last words that she would not have murder done in her name.

He knew others would not be as scrupulous – the name Thomas Boleyn came to mind. That was another reason he left Jane alone for she'd been hurt far too much by that man because of her loyalty to Anne and the affect she had on her. Their friendship hurt no one and only benefited him.

"Sire, if I might ask a question," Cromwell was quiet.

It was this oddness in his otherwise bold minister that put Henry on alert. "Personal or pertaining to the Kingdom?" he asked. The tone was one his friends knew meant _tread carefully_ _for danger was near_.

As a result, Cromwell spent a few minutes debating on if he really wanted to ask at all. But of all the things he was known for, cowardice was not one of them. "Personal, sire," he admitted.

"Then chose your words very carefully, Minister. While I value your insight and counsel, you are not irreplaceable," he warned. "You only have one chance to get it right."

"I know you aren't a stupid man," Thomas started. "You have heard the rumors flying about the Court in regards to Queen Anne and Lady Jane's relationship. Why have you not made any motions to negate them?"

_Or prove them right as you would about Queen Anne and anyone else_ hung silently in the air.

"One of the few lessons my father taught me that has stayed with me is that the friendship of women are a mystery to men. A husband would be well advised to accept that presence in his wife's life, if only for the sake of marital peace. Never stand between them or get involved in their affairs for they do not appreciate the aid – and do not question when they need to talk.

"Throughout the entire time I was with my Consort, the Dowager Princess Katharine, I shared her with her greatest friend and confidant, the Lady Willoughby. As you may not be aware of some personal things, I will tell you that she was none to fond of me. It was in her opinion that I did not treat Katharine or any of her ladies with any kind of true respect. At least, the Lady Jane likes me well enough to provide a listening ear and constant counsel when I have gone off track with Anne."

Henry's eyes went blank with a recollection from the past, a sight that Cromwell could not see. "If my wife loves her, it is as friends and sisters. I do not and will not begrudge her that. There are times when I…"

"Sire?" he prompted when the silence went on a bit too long for his sense of comfort.

The King started, having almost forgotten Cromwell's presence. The past had a way of sneaking up on him, catching him unawares at times. And while he liked to indulge occasionally, this was neither the time – nor was it the right person. "It is nothing to concern yourself over, Minister. You wished to speak of further reformations to the Church of England?"

Though he accepted the change in subject, he felt eaten up with curiosity. There was also a sense of uneasiness about he way the conversation had gone. It was like he was staring at a picture in a beautiful frame – but something was missing from it. Something important and yet, he could not see beyond what the artist had painted.

"It was pointed out to me that by destroying the monasteries, we have gotten rid of the people's main access to medical aid, among other things as the monasteries were also the main place for markets. As most villages do not have doctors, the people turned to the monks for aid. If we wish to keep a revolt from occurring, we might want to look into rectifying that."

Henry nodded, thinking it a good point. It was one of the things he'd noticed when he'd take his usual tour of England. The people's main center was usually the village monastery. "What do you suggest we do to fix it, Minister?"

"I'll tell you what I think once I've finished with the other things that were shown me in regards to the monasteries."

"I'm fully aware of all the functions they performed, Cromwell. Anne and Lady Jane were discussing it within my hearing, though they fell silent when they realized how close I was to them. I'm not interested in more words. I want solutions to the problems our actions have caused," he snapped.

"As you know, we didn't destroy the buildings if there seemed to be no reason to do so. What I suggest is that we refurbish t=and rebuild them if necessary. Once that is done, we could set up apothecary shops run by the new clergy. In this manner, we would return a sense of normalcy to the people while reiterating your supremacy over Church and State," he said, showing him some blueprints for the reconstruction.

"What of the other buildings? Surely it is wasteful to let lie, unoccupied and unused," he observed.

"I was thinking we could follow the counsel of Queen Anne and turn them into schools for the village, to make public education accessible to them."

"And why would you want to do that, Minister?"

"To further spread the King's religion," he promptly replied. "They only have the words of the false religion taught to them. By doing this, we would teach them which they ought to know."

"Our enemies would also be able to use this broader education to spread their lies," he pointed out, intrigued by the idea anyway.

Cromwell smiled thinly, recognizing the point. It was something he'd debated over with himself before coming up with an answer he felt was satisfactory, if not a true solution. "As long as the farmers can farm or the merchant can do his business in peace, you will find they will not care. Most people just want to live their lives free of strife and pain. I have this on good authority."

It actually sounded like something Thomas Moore would have said. Henry quickly shut his mind to that thought. Even after all this time, he couldn't think of his old friend without pain.

Yes, the man was a traitor but he'd also been a good friend and wise councilor to him. A moral counterpoint to Cardinal Wolsey's often more politically minded advice. Just thinking of the Cardinal made him realize just how strange Cromwell's words and plans were.

They sounded more like something Moore – even though he disapproved of the break – would have proposed. Not like something a man whose talents Wolsey had needed and who'd helped him hone them to a fine edged point would come up with.

Which meant one of two things to Henry's mind, either the man was growing a conscience – which may or may not be a good thing – or he'd been, "Talking to Lady Jane?" he asked, well aware of the man's innate distrust for the lady because of her allegiance to the old religion.

An allegiance that had nothing on her loyalty and fealty to Anne and him. For some reason, the two had never seemed to clash in the women's minds and he wondered if that had something to do with the friendship that had been forged before the religious strife had taken place. _How was it_, he wondered, _that Jane could compartmentalize it while Moore – who'd been more educated – could not_?

"More like it took a few years for her words to sink in after we'd started the process of dissolving the monasteries – and I suggested that the money go into your royal coffers. The Queen was adamant that the money belonged to the people and should be used for their benefit, through education," he said. "This recent sickness made me aware that we need to educate our people if we want to find a cure and keep them from becoming so discontent, we end up with a rebellion on our hands."

Henry was reminded once more that Anne had offered up the suggestion that the smaller monasteries be used for schools. There were a few she founded herself that did well – and pulled in quite a bit of revenue. "See to it," he ordered.

Several hours later, there was a knock upon the door. "Hal?" Charles asked when there was no reply. Though unsure if he should even try to talk to the King, they had been friends far longer than they had been enemies – and brothers-in-law. He worried because Henry was not acting like himself lately. And he feared that, either something was wrong with the Kingdom, or he was falling ill. He didn't know if he could handle losing his closest friend so soon after losing his beloved wife.

There was a long sigh before he heard, "Enter!"

"Sire, you've missed most of the evening meal. I hope that the Minister had nothing bad to report," his query was tentative. While they had mended some fences, the one that kept them from fully uniting was Queen Anne and Charles' dislike of the woman.

"No, we were just discussing the need for public education," he fell silent.

Charles knew that there was more to it than that. They'd known each other far to long, had been through to much together. They could always read between the lines with each other, yet this was the first time he didn't know quite what he was supposed to say or how he was to advise him. While he was okay with the split in the church and the dissolution of some of the monasteries, he had felt that destroying them all had been more an act of revenge than one of practical necessity. "And?" he prompted, feeling that it would be okay.

Instead of elaborating upon his meeting with Cromwell, he asked, "Do you think it possible to be in love with two women at once?"

At first, he took it as a joke. "I have enough trouble loving one, why would I go looking for trouble in trying to love two?"

"Charles, I'm serious."

"Yes, I can see that." He sat down heavily in the only other open chair in the cluttered room. Of all the discussions had in this tiny office with its book shelves, the narrow window, the desk stacked high with papers and reports, he was pretty sure this wasn't one of them. "As I know of your great love for the Queen Anne, I must ask what brought such a question to your mind."

"I was asked concerning Lady Jane's deep and abiding friendship for my wife. A devotion that many believe speaks of an affair for she takes no note of any suitors. I have been asked why I have done nothing to quell the rumors that they are lovers. In any other solution, I would be all over it. Yet, I am not in regards to them."

"And this makes you question your feelings regarding the Lady Jane?" he asked as delicately as he could. While he was not particularly fond of the Queen, he didn't feel Jane was any better as a match for Henry.

Neither woman was raised to understand royalty and their obligations. Obligations that were more a part of their souls than the outer garments and adornments they wore. For them, being of royal blood meant far more than wearing the crown and putting on the accouterments of power. It was who and what they were.

Only those who had been bred royal – or had been like him and raised as an extension of the family – understood the proper way to behave in all situations. He had been lucky in that regard. It was not so for Anne had a hard time remembering when it was best to keep silent. As for Jane, he felt that given half a chance, Henry would eat her alive.

Yet, having tentatively regained his friendship with him after the taunt silence of the past few years, he did not wish to jeopardize it with foolish words.

A deep sigh escaped Henry. "What else am I to think? Jane's…so different from anyone I've ever known. I can never be sure which one I am going to be speaking with. There are times when I remember her as the shy thing I met years ago. Other times, she's got a wicked temper on her.

"But I know that I love Anne no less than before," he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "There are no words to describe what I feel for the both of them. I don't think there can be."

"Does the Queen know how you feel?" he asked, fearing the result of that. Anne was unlike Katharine and Mary. She would not meekly turn aside and ignore what was occurring in her household, especially when it related to her very best friend. It had never been in her to look the other way, to accept that it was the man's right to look for diversions elsewhere and that his wife needed to keep a still tongue in her mouth.

"Probably," he replied with a bitter sounding laugh. "Not much of what I feel is a secret from her."

"Then why…" Charles couldn't finish the question. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer because he was sure it had something to do with the rumors. He knew that they weren't lovers, Anne loved Henry far to much to cheat on him. Even he, with his dislike for her firmly in place, knew that she would never hurt him like that.

It was one of the only reasons he was willing to tolerate her.

"Hasn't she expelled Jane as she has so many others?" he finished. A twisted smile crossed his face as he answered, "Anne knows that Jane will obey my orders but only because it is her duty. I learned very early that it is not wise to get between them. Jane is devoted to my wife. Anne's all the family she's got left. No matter what happens, Anne knows that she can trust Jane completely. If she became my mistress, I would only ever have her body. The rest is all Anne's."

Charles was silent. "What of her siblings?"

"With the exception of Thomas, they all ignore her. I have not been able to get confirmation upon the truth of the rumor but its said that Edward arranged for her funeral," his voice was unintentionally sharp.

"Why would he do that?"

"He doesn't like my wife's influence on Jane," he responded.


	6. Lady Jane Meets King Henry

Jane sat in the library, crying silently in pain and disbelief. Her face stung. The door opened and she froze, before dropping to the ground. "I am most sorry," she mumbled, not even looking up to see who was there. "I do not have permission to be in here."

King Henry looked down at the girl who was prostrated upon the ground before him, a bemused expression on his face. Studying her, he couldn't help but see faint signs of an ethereal beauty just beyond the fringes of her rather plain face – and the dress that did nothing to flatter her rather flat figure. Though his practiced eye could see that she would fill out in time, given a few good meals.

His lips twitched as he idly wondered if his Court was becoming populated with fey creatures, for the dark lady who had caught his eye before was no beauty by conventional means. Her chin was rather pointed and she had an unfortunate birthmark upon her face. Yet, her eyes were gorgeous and her long, dark hair looked incredibly touchable.

It made her intriguing and there was an exceptional draw about to her, to say nothing of her charismatic presence, which intrigued him.

Taking pity on her, he raised her up, noting that she did not meet his eyes. It was rather unusual for him for when a woman kept her eyes lowered, she usually glanced up at him coyly. He took another look at her, trying to place her behavior. There had been another woman, far older than this one, who had behaved in a similar manner with his father.

"Do not fear, good lady, no permission has ever been required to come into these lower rooms. Was some man unkind to you?" he harshly asked, seeing the darkening bruise upon her pale cheek. "Tell me his name so that he may learn that we do not treat ladies so roughly in my Court."

Jane winced, recognizing him now. Of all the people to run into, she would meet the King himself. "It is of no consequence, your Majesty. I behaved most unwisely."

"You?" he questioned, disbelieving. "How could a child such as you behave badly?" While he was not innocent enough to believe that it couldn't happen, his instincts told him that such was not the case with this girl.

"I spoke rashly and was reminded of my place," she whispered, conscious of his steady perusal. She squirmed, wishing she was anywhere but here. No wonder Lady Anne feared this man. The weight of his personality alone left one feeling as though there was no choice but to obey him.

The king studied her. Speaking out of turn and unwisely was hardly the womanly thing to do. Therefore, it made it none of his business how the girl was disciplined. Even as he moved to pass her by, that thought did not sit well with him for he would never allow his Maria to be hurt so. "Are you one of the Queen's ladies?" he asked, sitting down and looking at her.

"Not yet for I am still too young. I am a part of her household though," she stood with her hands folded behind her. She stifled the urge to fidget as she normally did when nervous.

"Ah," he said, thinking about something. "And your family? Who are they?"

"Sir John Seymour of White Hall, majesty," she replied.

"I don't believe I saw him in Court," he commented idly.

"No, sire. My cousin, Lady Arsinoë, will take over acting as my guardian when my brother Edward returns to the court of Charles the fifth," she bit her lip, reminding herself that the King had better things to do than listen to her talk – even if it seemed as though he did not.

"Tell me, Mistress Seymour, what do you think of life at Court?" He leaned against the desk, studying her and taking note of her every gesture carefully.

"I have enjoyed what I have seen of it," she replied, her fingers twisting into her skirts. It was to be hoped that he could not tell how nervous and anxious to escape she was. "Your majesty has an excellent Court."

A slow smile crossed his face, "Do I make you nervous, Lady? What is your name?"

"Jane, sire," she curtsied gracefully, wondering how best to answer his question. She had neither the quick wit of Lady Anne nor the measured wisdom of Queen Katharine – nor even the experience the other ladies had. This was hardly a situation she had ever thought to find herself in. Helplessly, she studied the floor, saying only a quiet, "You are the King."

"A modest answer, Lady Jane, but have I ever done the slightest thing to make you fearful of offending me? Have any of my actions ever revealed a cruel man behind the ruler that you see?" he asked.

"No, sire," she admitted, voice trembling.

"Then why are you not at ease in my company?"

Again, she could only helplessly say, "You are the King. I am but a small and lowly subject, hardly worth your notice. To speak to one in your exalted presence had never been a thought in my mind."

He laughed, though it was not an unkind sound. "You are either a very witty young lady or an idiot to have concocted such a speech. Tell me, Lady Jane, have you ever had any formal training?"

"To do what?" she asked, titling her head to the side.

Oh, the answers he could give to such a question – had it come from anyone other than this innocent, young girl. An excellent player of courtly love he may be but he did not take advantage of ladies barely out of the nursery. He shook his head, "A word of advice, never answer a question in such a manner for it invites lewd comments that are inappropriate for a young lady to hear."

"Very well, your majesty," she replied. The door opened and she glanced up in relief, until she saw that it was the Honorable Cardinal Wolsey who entered.

The man stared at her critically, noting the way that she squirmed and looked mortified. "Am I interrupting, sire?" he asked, sounding as though Jane had been the one who'd entered their conversation.

"Not at all," Henry gestured for him to come into the room. "Lady Jane and I were just getting better acquainted. Thank you for keeping company with me."

"It was my honor, your majesty," she curtsied to them both, "Your grace."

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and gave a relieved sigh. The strange interview was over and she was grateful to have made it through relatively unscathed.


	7. Seeing The Human In Queen Anne

_Author's Note and Thanks : I hope this update is worth the wait. As anyone who's read my profile knows, I suffered a major computer crash. And anyone who has gone through that knows that it tends to destroy - or at least stress out - creativity. Thank you to my new readers and my wonderful reviewers, I appreciate your support and constant words of helpfulness and praise._

1536

Anne pushed herself upright and began to walk down the hall, conscious of the ever present, ever judging eyes upon her. Her son was no better for her spending the night sitting up with him, hoping that Jane's relative good fortune would smile upon him. They had always been there and would always be there, despite her objections and desire to have a few minutes alone. Privacy was a rare commodity that was not afforded to royalty.

Had she been born to it, she would be more able to bear it, this she knew full well.

"Your majesty."

The words were familiar but hearing them from this speaker had Anne stopping in shock. It was a slow turn she made to face the dark gowned young woman, "Princess Maria…" she said, slipping into the familiar title for the daughter of the former queen easily. "I mean, Lady…Oh, what does it matter now? How may I be of aid to you?"

"Is she any better?" Lady Maria asked, puzzled by the confusion and the misery on Anne's face.

"Walk with me, please," she invited, her darting eyes reminding the other that they were far from alone. Once outside, the two walked slowly down one of the hedged lanes. "I hardly know how to answer that question."

Maria looked at her, really looked at her. For the first time, she saw her as just the woman who was Elizabeth's mother. And she saw the woman behind the mask that Anne constantly wore to show the world how carefree and yet, capable she was. And she saw beyong the other one that Chapuys had put her in.

She looked almost…human. She felt unnerved by the sight, it wasn't something she really wanted to see of this woman she hated. This woman she despised for what she had done to her mother and to her world. Seeing her like this...it made it difficult to feel so negatively against her for she saw her as any other person and not as a cheap creature bent on destroying civilization as Maria knew it.

"Is it not a simple question?"

"She spoke yesterday," Anne quietly replied. "In other illnesses, that would be a sign of recovery. But it may still go the other way. Many who have been sick have spoken – and were dead the next day. I hope and I pray for her to get better, never knowing for sure if I'm even being heard.

"I visit your mother's grave and talk to her, hoping that she will give me strength and insight. She was a great person, an inspiration to me when I came to Court and felt so lost amid a sea of English composure. Somehow, she knew just what I was going through and what would help me. I think…I think it was because she went through it herself, coming here from Spain, her birth home."

Glancing over at her, she caught sight of the incredulous look on Maria's face. She let a wry smile cross her lips, knowing why she looked thus. "You did not think to hear such praising words from me? While it is true that your mother and I have become known for our rivalry, there was more to her than that. She was a woman I admired and dearly loved. Had things been different, I suspect we would have been close friends.

"We did come close to it once." She fell silent, lost in thoughts of the past, when things had been much clearer for her because her heart hadn't been hurt.

"When was this?" Maria asked, eager to hear anything of her mother. While her father had forbidden anyone to speak of Katherine at Court, that did not stop the words that came to Maria from Chapuys' lips. Of course, Chapuys was a rather untouchable man. As the Emperor Charles' ambassador, he had an unassailable position.

To attack him was to invite the possibility of war and, as idiotically courageous as her father could be, he was ill prepared to go to war against the Holy Roman Empire.

Once again, it was _Elizabeth's_ own courage that inspired her to ask after her. Her half-sister had taken the chance on asking a biased source about the truth of Maria's mother, knowing full well that she might come to hate what her own mother had done.

Maria felt that she could do no less. It almost shamed her that the younger lead the way and she had an inkling of the kind of woman Elizabeth would be.

_Talk to Maria as if she was your own flesh and blood daughter, not an inconvenience. Love her as you would any child of your own. A heart is not restricted to a small circle and yours is big enough to love her completely. Though the two of us are as different as night and day, you have allowed me into your heart._

_Therefore, you should not be as foolish as the King is being._

_Do not deny her the right to know her mother, my dearest Nan. She's innocent and trusting. She does not truly know or understand the way the world works. But she's not as stupid as some would make her out to be just because she is dedicated to her religion. It is all that she is really allowed to keep of her mother._

_Give her more than that paper dream; let her know the woman behind the mask of cold perfection others have drawn over her_.

That had been easy for Jane to say. Jane had always found it easy to say things, even put them in practice. But it was different for Anne because those had been the dark days. Newly, strangely in love with the King and intrigued by his intellect, his passion. The way he had grasped concepts in the works that had been written and challenged her to come up with answers that suited both his pride and his sense of right and wrong.

The days of uncertainty and hope for a fresh start for her. All things had seemed so strange, so wondrous to her, and so dangerous. They had been living in a state of cautious awareness. It had been before the carefully crafted house of cards that she and Henry had built up around their little world had fallen apart with Katharine's final act.

Still, looking into Maria's eyes, she knew that it was only right.

Of all people, Maria deserved to know the truth of her mother. She deserved to know about the flawed lady; about the flesh and blood woman who had so touched Anne's own life by giving her a real friend in this place. Of the lady queen that had held Anne's admiration and her confused anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, she gently touched Maria's cheek, wondering if she'd feel a stinging slap for her action. But somehow, it felt right for it was something she'd often seen Katharine do this same action in affection and comfort. "Did you know she always called you her little Princessa Maria?"

Maria sharply inhaled, as if the words had recalled something both painful and yet, wondrous to her mind. Shaking her head gently, strangely unwilling to lose the touch. It felt familiar, a touch she'd missed so badly. A touch she'd often needed and never had known who to ask for it. Who to turn to when she needed to feel another there.

Somehow, it felt as though she could feel her mother there, in that one, soft touch. She waited for Anne to go on, to tell her more. But she couldn't resist asking, almost playfully, so that her tears would not fall. So that Anne would know that she was all right with this familiarity, "Not even the King?"

Anne laughed gaily. For the first time since the illness had happened, she felt a weight lift off her chest. Jane wouldn't begrudge her the laughter. Would have encouraged it, "He was forbidden to do so – and Katharine had a way of making him obey her to the letter. You may very well think that I am making it up for the King is a strong man, a bold man. And your mother was quite delicate in appearance.

"But she could make him heed her easily. For all the propaganda that has been put out, he loved your mother dearly."

"Then why?" Maria couldn't finish the question.

There was silence for a while before Anne cleared her throat, eyes looking over Maria's shoulder. Over to the place in the distance where the Chapel was. "I was very stupid – and hurt, Princess. You see, when I first came to Court, I was in love with someone already. But…through circumstances manipulated by my father and the Cardinal Wolsey, my heart was broken. My hurt made me lash out at the wrong person.

"It was wrong of me – and hardly a justification for what happened. But humans, especially those who are in pain, rarely act rationally," she sighed. "This is something that you must know and understand. No matter the religion a person follows, it does not automatically make them perfect. People are flawed. They react on emotion first, think things through second. Even Cromwell has his moments," she ended.

Maria and Anne walked for a bit in silence, the younger girl contemplating Anne's words. There was a lesson there in leadership, a good one, she acknowledged. The Bible often spoke of forgiving one's enemies, about looking inside for one's own sin and clearing it up before judging another's.

"What happened?" she was not sure if she was asking after the friendship or about Anne's own past. She may have just been asking for the sake of conversation. There was common ground, a neutral ground to be found between them if they spoke of Katharine, though neutral probably wasn't the best word to use.

"Your father," Anne simply answered. "And my own. As strong and intelligent as we women are, we are merely pawns in the games men play with us."


	8. Challenges Given and Roman Emperors

"Not so easy to talk to him, is it?" Anne's cynical and yet, entirely understanding voice asked.

"I found him to be most kingly – and far preferable to Cardinal Wolsey," Jane replied, pushing away to follow her up the stairs. "He is not a monster, Lady Anne."

"Nor is he honorable enough to take no for an answer," her reply was sharp. "I have tried to gently hint at an end to this mild flirtation he insists on pursuing with me to no avail. As long as Mary keeps his eye, he is contented with the game. But I fear that his interest is waning in her and warming to me. My father prays for that day. I do not."

"Why do you not go to a power higher than your father? A person to whom he must obey?" she curiously asked. "If being here is so distasteful to you, why do you not leave?"

"To whom should I go for this aid? The King?" she questioned, shaking her head. "Would that not defeat my purpose of staying away from him?"

"Why not to one of those Queens you served? Is there not one to whom he would listen to for their patronage is greater than his own?"

Anne paused at her door and turned to stare at Jane who stood, shadowed by the flickering candlelight in the hallway. "Jane," the wonder in her voice surprised the younger girl. "I think you may have stumbled onto the very solution to my dilemma. Queen Margaret fostered me for a time and she has connections that King Henry must honor. Or risk his immortal soul. I shall write to her."

"Write?" she repeated.

"How else am I to reach her? Rely upon her feminine intuition to realize that I'm in trouble? Oh, I understand," she nodded, gesturing for Jane to precede her into the room. "You do not write like so many unfortunate others in this country."

"It is not very ladylike to read or write for that takes away the natural right of a man to teach a woman," she replied, pushing open the door to Anne's bedchamber. The chill air flowed out and she wondered why Nan had not left it open to warm. It didn't seem like the maid to forget such a thing.

"Are you really that empty headed?" Anne scorned her words. "How can you expect to run a household if you do not possess even a mild ability to read?"

"Like many in my family, I was blessed with an excellent memory. I recognize many words for our gracious Queen insisted that each of us learn to do so. Many of us younger ladies edify our minds during the quiet times with Bible reading."

"Then you believe our Queen is no lady," she retorted.

Jane gasped, half turning to face her. Only the pain that sprung up when her face brushed her shoulder stopped her from completing the turn. "That is a vicious untruth for there is no greater Lady in all our land."

"Yet, she reads and writes – in more than one language," Anne smugly said. "A trait that you have deemed unladylike."

Silence greeted this statement as Jane processed this. "Mayhap such things are only for those that rule. My father and brothers say that a woman's mind is too weak to understand or comprehend such complexities."

"I pray you will forgive me for this but the men in your family are fools – and you are a fool for blindly believing them. As I have said before, a woman is only limited by a man. Let me make an addendum to that – she is also limited by her perceptions of herself. I have not met any woman who has been weakened by an ability to read or write."

"Perhaps such things are only possible on the continent," her suggestion was timid. "Being so close to others of like mind allows them to gain strength."

"Then let us conduct an experiment," Anne suddenly sat down. "Let me teach you to read, to write."

"What?" Jane stepped back, a horrified and yet, fascinated look on her face. "Are you mad?"

"Probably," she shrugged casually, as if the question hadn't hurt. It did, much to her surprise. She'd heard worse things about herself and felt no pain. Yet, this one question from Jane stung her. "Despite your foolish words, I believe that you are not really that stupid. I firmly believe that I can teach you to do both if you apply yourself to it. I have never read in the Bible that it is against God's will for a woman to have learning."

"You wish to teach me?" she repeated, trying to come to terms with what she was hearing. The many different directions Anne's thoughts led her in left Jane grasping for some kind of foothold. While she liked her well enough, she was never sure if she thought Anne was blasphemous – or onto some kind of truth that had been lost to them over the years.

The very tenor of her thoughts shocked her. How could the Pope be wrong when he was of the lineage and nobility of Saint Peter? Was not the Church built upon him? Shaking herself, she reminded herself that it was possible for things to be lost, her father did it often and yet, it did not diminish the fact that he was right.

He was the head of the household. "I do not think that possible. Should not such learning be undertaken when one is of a younger and more teachable age?"

"Nothing is sure to make me more determined than to be told that something is not possible. You are not that old – and if I cannot teach you, then I am not quite the intellectual that I believe that I am," Anne said with a self-deprecating smile. "The real question is, are _you_ up to the task? For while I have the fortitude and the passion, I cannot make you feel the same. That must come from you."

Their eyes met and held, though it was difficult when Jane kept her head tilted away at an angle.

"I have often wondered what it would be like to read," her words were slow in coming but there was a curiosity in her voice that could not be denied. It was merely a matter of changing that curiosity into courage, but Jane knew that she wouldn't find that difficult.

She'd already done something she never thought she'd have the strength to do – stand up to her brother.

Now that they were in accord, the weight of the task she'd taken upon herself felt heavy. For all her bravado, she really wondered if this was something she could do. Because even though she was innocent and naïve, Jane did have a point about age being a factor in learning. "This is not going to be easy," she warned.

"You're the impatient one, not me," Jane retorted, showing that she had some bite. Shame colored her face, "I'm sorry."

"For what? Speaking the truth? I asked for it," she ruefully said. "You've never shown yourself to be anything but patient."

"Almost boringly so," she added for Anne on a sigh. "I cannot be what I am not."

"I wonder about that sometimes," she said, rising from the bed.

"What?"

"Can one change one's nature through knowledge and experience?" But there was an absent sound to her voice as she approached Jane, fed up with the fact that Jane had yet to fully face her. It was so unlike her, that Anne had a nasty feeling that something bad had happened and she worried.

"That's an odd thing to wonder," Jane said, startled when Anne suddenly appeared in front of her.

"Jane, what happened to your face?" she asked, her hands framing her face.

"Are you going to plait your hair?"

"Jane," her voice sharpened as she repeated her question, "What happened to your face?"

"Lady Anne, please," she pleaded, "It is not important."

"That is a matter of opinion," she firmly replied, guiding her towards the bed. Sitting down, she patted the spot beside her. "Sit down and tell me everything. Was it the King? Did he harm you?"

"Oh, no, my lady. He was most displeased with what he saw," she slowly sat down on the mattress.

"A rare thing upon which we can agree. Your brother," Anne knew she was right by the way Jane paled and looked away. "How many times? How often has he hit you?"

"It was only this once for I mouthed off. Really, it will not happen again," Jane tried to inject confidence into her words.

Anne shook her head, "Until the next time you do something that displeases him. How do you think he will react upon learning that you are being taught to read and write? Particularly that your teacher is none other than the sister of the King's mistress with her wicked, unnatural French ways?"

"It will not happen for he is departing to return to the court of the Emperor Charles. He has no choice in this for to stay here is to offend the Emperor and possibly lead to war. Cousin Marge will not care what I do so long as I remain modest and keep my place, inviting no attention upon myself that may cause my family distress," she said.

"Really?" Anne's skepticism was obvious.

"Yes, she knows better than to challenge the Queen's decision. Though you choose me to help and serve you, to learn from you the ways of the Court – it was she who has allowed our association to continue unimpeded. Surely you know that there are other maids who are more suitable for one of your rank," she half questioned.

"To be honest with you, no. I had not thought about it for that is not how things were done in my foster Courts," she said, pondering the Queen's motives behind this. "There probably was no one willing to deal with me and my scandalous ways."

It was a sour thought for her to swallow. What made it worse was that she was sure it was nothing to do with Mary's position as official mistress to the King. Her instinct told her that it was her. It was the petty jealousies that existed in the Court.

"Oh, no. There are many maids who wish to serve you but the Queen said no to them all."

"I wonder why," she mused softly. "Go to bed, Jane – I am a hard taskmaster."

"Good night, Lady Anne," she said. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it with a sigh, relieved that the subject of Edward was dropped.

"Jane," a familiar voice drifted down the hall.

Looking over, she curtsied, "Lady Arsinoë. I was just coming to see you."

"Let us be off. Though your brother and you had an argument, it would be best to part on better terms. In this life, one never knows what may happen," she said, her Greek accent soft and exotic sounding in the stern hallway. Unlike the soft accent in Queen Katharine's voice, it sounded odd to her ears. Her dark eyes gleamed as they took in her appearance. Noting Jane's hair slipping free from the bun, she shook her head in disapproval. "I will pull you hair back in the carriage."

They stopped only once to grab her black hooded cloak before they disappeared into the night.

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Two weeks into their bargain, Jane was beginning to regret the undertaking. As warned, Anne was a hard taskmaster and unrelenting when she was determined. Actually, Jane had no problem with that, it helped her concentrate upon what they were doing. Learning to read and write would be easier if it wasn't so difficult due to time.

There just wasn't enough of it.

And the sources Anne had at her fingers were rather limited. The books they had quick access to were all in the language of the Church – Latin – or in the language of the Court – French. While Jane had learned to speak French – it was a requirement for living at Court – her ability to read Latin was non existent. The only ones who really spoke the language were the clergy, though she knew that both the Queen and King could do so.

So could Anne.

Thus, she was learning to write in English but read Latin and French, making everything more of a jumbled mass in her mind. It was very hard to sort through the influx of information. She was half tempted to ask her cousin if they could use her English translation of the Bible, even if it was looked down upon.

At least then she'd have something familiar to build upon.

There was a knock on her door seconds before it was thrown open. Anne stormed in, eyes blazing with rage. She dropped onto the bed, glaring. "My father is a manipulative…conniver. He has blocked, bared, and intercepted _all_ of my attempts to contact Queen Claude. I have yet to hear from the Archduchess. Men are uncouth, uncivilized clods – every single one of them. And your manner does nothing to help my cause," she almost flopped onto the bed, glaring at Jane. "All of your bowing and scraping to their ego instead of standing up for yourself."

"My manner is what it should be," Jane said. "You're the strange one, alienating men – teasing them in such a way that you are getting quite a reputation for fast and lose playing. A reputation which is utterly at odds with what you want."

"Well, isn't that what I am? Training to take my sister's place in the King's bed? I need to get practice somehow," Anne flipped her hair. "If you want a man, you've got to employ the right bait – you need some help with that."

"You're smarter than that," her reply was quiet, though Jane felt hurt by her words. "Are you all you ever think about? Have you ever considered your sister? How do you think she feels, being replaced by her younger sister whose always been doted on? Perhaps she is as frustrated by this as you are and would be willing to help you get a letter out to your friends."

"Mary?" Anne scoffed. "She enjoys being a king's bed warmer. It was one of the reasons father pulled her out of the French Court. How stupid can you be?"

Jane slammed the book shut. "At least I'm _trying_ to help you instead of complaining about everything or trying to make a dubious name for myself as you have. A name you shouldn't encourage for it does you no credit. Nor is it one you truly want – or has that all been an act?" The door slammed shut behind her and she stalked down the hall towards the gardens, needing air. Her cheeks flushed with anger – and shame.

She couldn't believe that she'd lost her temper so completely.

Flopping down by the fountain, she wished she'd thought to bring her stitching with her. Without it, she only had her thoughts to keep her occupied. And they were far from pleasant. Leaning back, she let out a sigh.

At least Edward had not come back as he'd threatened to. He'd never let her hear the end of this. As it was, she was lucky that her father hadn't immediately pulled her from Court when he'd been told of her friendship with his rival's daughter. There was pain as she realized that it was only because Will's family had held firm that she was unsuitable to marry him. They had worried over what the Dormers would do should she return home.

Anne stared after Jane, utterly shocked by her exit. She thought over their conversation, wincing at how callous some of her words had been. Jane had only been trying to help her by giving her suggestions that made sense to her and what she knew best. It wasn't her fault that Anne didn't enjoy the same friendship with her sisters that Jane did with her own.

There were times Anne hated Jane for her family relationships, for her preternatural patience, and for the fact that she was so dang nice – to everyone. Even that rat, that snake in the grass Wolsey had her kindness, though she knew how enraged Anne herself was with the man for making sure that she and Percy could never be. The girl was so accommodating, as though she had no personality beyond what those she was with needed of her.

And then she'd do something surprising, like taking up the challenge to learn to read and write – or lose her temper.

It had taken her some time but she'd finally broken through that meekness and brought out the fire she'd always suspected was there. Unfortunately, it had been aimed at her and she didn't know how to apologize. She'd never had a friend that she got to be normal with – not even with Claude for she was the Queen and the woman she'd sworn an oath to serve.

Jane was different. As confounded as it made her feel, somewhere along the line, she had stopped seeing her as a project to kill time. She had become a friend.

Sighing, she got up and walked over to Jane's desk. Picking up the book, she flipped it open to the blank paper. Her neat handwriting was over the shaky and scrawled penmanship that Jane had employed.

Sinking into the still warm chair, she stared down at their mingled writing, feeling guilty and not knowing how to make restitution for her wrong. Taking quill in hand, she slowly wrote down the letters, composing a simple letter. It was her hope that Jane would read and understand what she could not say.

It never occurred to her to apologize in person.

As she'd been taught in her youth, apologizing was just not something a Boleyn did. Other people apologized, they had need of it. But as they were of higher rank, they didn't need to lower themselves to such things. Yet, she was beginning to think that what she'd learned was wrong. If it was important to her, to getting back what she lost, then she needed to say she was sorry.

Finishing it, she folded it in half, propping it up against the book she'd given Jane as a starter. As she walked down the hall, she saw the Lady Jane Parker hurry down the hall. Shaking her head, she made her way steadily down to her rooms.

"There you are," she said, relieved to see her. With her pale blue eyes set in an English rose complexion and lush, brown hair pulled back around her oval shaped face, Jane was the epitome of an English lady. "I've been looking just about _everywhere_ for you. Queen Katharine requests your presence in her chambers."

"The Queen wants to speak to me?" she asked, surprised. As far as she knew, she had done nothing to warrant an interview. _So_, she thought despondently, _it probably had to do with Mary_. Queen Claude had done the same, more at the prodding of her mother-in-law than in actual belief that Anne could do anything.

Claude was quite certain that Anne didn't have the power to compel Mary to do _anything_ she didn't want to.

"Yes, so you might want to hurry. Shall I help you with your hair?" she offered.

Anne's hand went to her head automatically, feeling the curls that had escaped from the plaited bun she wore. "Is it very bad?" she asked.

"Well, I wouldn't want to see the Queen that way," she replied. "But, no, it doesn't look like you've been doing anything inappropriate."

"Funny," she said. "Thanks for the offer, Lady Parker."

Entering the room later, she passed by the haughty Madame Maria de Salinas and curtsied to Katharine. "I apologize for my tardiness, your majesty."

"You are not that late," Katharine smiled, gracious as ever. "Please, sit beside me, there are some things that I have to ask you about."

"Of course, your majesty. Thank you," she murmured, smoothing out her dress before sitting down. For the first time, she wished she was like Jane and had some needlepoint to work on. It would give her a real reason to avoid looking into Katharine's intelligent, questioning eyes. She had begun to have a feeling that this wasn't about Mary at all but couldn't think of anything else that it could be. Her dubious choices in flirtatious partners aside, she couldn't think of anything she'd done that was wrong.

After several moments of silence in which Katharine finished a letter on her sampler, she began to talk. "How are you settling into Court, Lady Anne?"

"I have no complaints, your majesty," _save for my father's behavior – and your husband's utter and complete inability to respect my telling him no_, she silently added. But she knew better than to voice those words. There was, after all, nothing that Katharine could do for her that wouldn't result in a painful backlash to her – and her siblings.

"I see. I was worried as your coming to the English Court is a change from the life you are used to," she looked her straight in the eye. "Do you not feel out of sorts?"

"The only thing I miss is my friends. Something that would be alieviated if only I could hear from them," Anne sighed. "But I have not been able to get my letters through to them. Has there been a change in the peaceable relationship between our Gracious King and the Lady Margaret of Austria that we know nothing of? I know relations between King Francis and the King has always been touchy, so I know that my letters to Queen Claude may be subject to suspicion but I had hoped to hear from the regardless of the political situation."

Katharine's head was shaking. "Our relations with the Lady Margaret are as strong as ever. I shall find out what I can. Though you have been home for a while, you should always be able to contact your friends. If I had not been able to write to my father during my difficult early years, I would have felt truly lost and alone."

"Your majesty is most gracious to me," her words were soft, hiding her glee at the thought that with the Queen's unknowing help, she might have escaped her father's plans. She would go no further than that for she'd been let down too many times to work up any hope at all.

"Do you have any other concerns? Perhaps in the form of the young Lady Seymour?" she delicately probed. "I should have realized that she was far too young to be serving you for she is only just come to Court and knows nothing about it."

For a brief moment, fear took hold of Anne and she almost panicked.

But calm quickly reasserted itself. There was no way that Katharine would suggest separating her and Jane when they worked so well together. And, even if she did, Anne would always stay her friend. Or so she hoped, that fear rose again. It was difficult enough for them to spend time together as it was. If they separated…the thought didn't bear completion.

"Oh, no, your majesty. Jane is fine. I have no complaints about her. She is swift to obey and very kind. I find that she is a quick study. She's been of inestimable aid to me. If I may speak my mind freely?" she paused to ask, awaiting Katharine's approval or rejection.

"You may continue. I find myself intrigued," which was not a lie. Until Maria had mentioned that it might be seen as a slight against Lady Anne for they had different statuses, she had thought nothing of pairing the two girls. When she'd first allowed them to be paired, she had hoped that Jane's Englishness would rub off on Anne's continental manners, that she would become a little more English.

She was neither blind nor deaf. It had not escaped her notice that, while Anne was popular with the male set, she was excluded from closer relationships with the women. They emulated her style, her manner, but they did not trust her and were envious of her. If she could adapt more comfortably to her actual homeland, Anne would be happier.

At least, that was what Katharine's own experience had taught her.

"A Maid of the Court is here to learn of the Court's inner workings. As I have been in two Courts. I am capable of teaching her how things work and how to be wise when dealing with politics and how they relate to us. My experiences enable me to teach her to judge the way the opinions of the Court are shifting as they constantly do. As her brother has place in the Emperor Charles' Court, Jane cannot simply retire to the country.

"And I like her," she added, almost surprised to hear the admittance out loud. She'd only recently come to the conclusion herself. To hear herself admit it to another wasn't like her. Yet, she felt that it would aid her more than harm her. "Unlike other gentle ladies here, she stands up to me. She is also willing to stand up _for_ me."

Madame Maria clucked her tongue in disapproval at the thought of one who was of lower position standing up to one of greater status. But kept her counsel. She was rather fond of her own Mistress and she knew that the Queen valued her as well.

"Very well, Jane shall remain in your service," it was no matter of consequence to give Anne this concession. Truth be known, she was hoping for this outcome when she'd first seen the two of them together – ulterior motive of helping her to fit in aside.

"Thank you, sire," she was truly grateful for this kindness. When her dismissal did not immediately come, she glanced up at Katharine with some trepidation and noticed the pensive look on her face. "Was there any other matter that I can aid you with?"

"There is another matter with the Lady Jane that I must ask you about," she began, pausing for a moment. "Far be it for me to criticize but I have heard that you are teaching her to read and to write. As I do not have anything against such endeavors, I wish to know why. Is it to convert her from the true religion?" There was no change in her voice as she acknowledged Anne's wider religious inclinations and study of them.

"I am teaching her because a mind is a terrible thing to waste. This is something I believe that you understand full well," she said. "I believe that there is no harm in learning to read. Idle minds are more likely to be the Devil's playground, after all."

"Idle hands," Katharine corrected with a slight smile, almost amused.

"But one's hands cannot be continuously occupied. By learning to read, one can use that skill in the study of good books," she paused, "Like the Bible I am teaching her from. I just wish I had something easier and in English to start her on. I'm afraid that the constant switch between French, English, and Latin is confusing. That it is causing more harm than good but the only other books I have in my possession are in French."

"It is the language of the Court," Katharine reminded her.

Anne easily conceded that point. It was one of the languages she fluently spoke. The one she usually thought in. "I believe that it is important for one to be able to read in the language of their birth country." She stopped before she could point out that the Queen could read and write, not only in Spanish, but in Latin, English, and French herself.

And while her own reading skills in English were rusty, she could do so as well.

"I shall see what I can do but in exchange I need you to talk to your sister."

"Of course," Anne agreed, "About what?"

There was silence. Katharine dismissed Maria kindly but decisively. "I have been observing her lately and have seen that she shows signs of being enceinte."

"She is," Anne admitted slowly, reluctantly. Uneasily. Her father had forbidden them to speak of it. He'd already boxed Mary's ears for not taking more care, reminding her of the fate of Lady Mary Blout when it had come out that she was in delicate condition.

Katharine nodded, "I thought I recognized the signs." There was resigned happiness in her voice, as though she'd already come to a decision and just needed confirmation from another that what she had in mind was correct.

Swallowing nervously, Anne was quiet even though she knew her father would be angry that Mary's condition was known. Even if it was only the Queen, she feared his reaction. Thomas Boleyn did not get angry often but when he did, he was vicious.

"Ask her what she intends to do. If she intends to pass it off as her husband's. Or as the King's," Katharine thoughtfully added, "I may wish to have a hand in the child's upbringing."

"Ma'am?" she asked, confused.

"The Roman Emperors may have struck upon an equitable solution for the dilemma of an heirless union," she replied, an enigmatic look on her face. There was a distance to her that chilled Anne and she subtly rubbed her arms.

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that there was an heir, the Princess Maria until she realized that it was a male child Katharine was referring to. While she didn't get the Roman reference, she could understand the other point being made. "I will speak with her, your majesty."

"Thank you," Katharine inclined her head. "Would you ask Madame Salinas to join me?"

"As you wish," she curtsied and left, telling the Madame that she was wanted by the Queen. Walking to her room, she shook her head with a sigh. In all probability, Mary had gone with Thomas to see that doctor. Lying down on her bed, hands folded under her head, she studied the ceiling.

But it not, what was she going to do? Could she risk her father's wrath and talk to Mary about this?

About uniting against their father? While she, herself, had no qualms about battling him, she wasn't so sure she could bring her sister into the fight. Mary was such a soft and gentle soul, easily lead about by her heart. If she attempted this, would Mary be a helper? Or would she ultimately betray her cause?


	9. Lady Stafford's Peace is Shattered

_Author's Note : Thanks for the constant and steady patience as I work on this story and upon others. RL has been well, RL and there's not much we can do about that. Is there? I'm sorry for the jumps between the past and the future. But I think I've finally resolved that. Unfortunately, that means an entire revision of this story. Which may mean more of a delay in updates. So, I hope you will bear with me as I try to figure this all out. Thank you all so much for your reviews and for sticking with me_.

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Mary Stafford formerly Lady Carey formerly Boleyn sat outside, watching her children play under the trees in the distance. While alert to them and what they are doing, her thoughts were far away, recalling the past as the letter she'd just finished reading fell into her lap. Shattering her peace, memories of Court and all it entailed marred what had been a pleasant day.

Jane…the sister Anne had found to replace her.

No, not replace for they had never been close. She was grateful that her daughter Anne got along well with Cathy for that friendship would see them through tough times. Or so she hoped that they would enjoy the lifelong bond that had been denied her.

For Jane Seymour left a sour taste in her mind. It wasn't that she didn't like the other woman but, being of a simple mind, Mary liked to have things clearly defined. The truth was, well, she didn't quite know what to make of Jane even after all of these years.

Unlike her siblings, she preferred to have everything clearly defined. While she would support the King as Head of the Church, she missed the clarity of the old religion. Even though they tried to define the Church of England, there were too many gaps and blended lines in it for her comfort.

One never knew for sure what was right – and what would be considered treasonous. What one day was sanctioned as good often was found to be an incorrect practice the next. Without warning, many who thought they were doing what the ministers taught them found that it was not so.

It was not the most comfortable way to live and Mary wondered how Jane did it.

Of course, she might be in the same pile as Mary was. She knew most considered her to be to stupid to know any better. Sometimes, especially in the vacillating air of English politics, ignorance truly was the only safety net one had to cling to. It was something she knew how to play up to – and play up to well. It was truly amazing how often men fell for it.

Being the sister of the Queen could only offer so much protection after all, especially when you married in secret a man far below the proper station.

A shadow fell over her, interrupting her thoughts. Looking up, a frown marred her pretty face as she recognized the man. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get word of my sister," he replied, sitting down without an invitation to do so. "I heard she was ill."

Mary slid over. Not only was she trying to keep a respectable space between them but she'd never felt comfortable around Edward Seymour. "Why do you care? You as well as buried your sister when she refused to cut Anne out of her life."

"That is a foul rumor," he retorted icily.

"Which you have done nothing to dispel," her reply was quick and tart. She wondered where her husband was. He usually came home at this time, though perhaps there was nothing he could do against a man such as Edward Seymour save evict him from the premises. Even then, she wondered if he could. For Seymour had a higher rank, one that would be recognized over a sir. "I hardly think you have the right to claim family loyalty and concern over Jane."

"And you do?" he sneered. "Look at your home. At your children who aren't properly fed or dressed in the manner that they should be because the King and your sister are ashamed of your husband."

She flushed with anger. There was no way she could deny his words about the embarrassment her marriage had caused. Her own thoughts had spoken of such things. Nor could she argue that they had no need of a more substantial income, though she'd learned from her mother-in-law to budget better.

But his words stung her pride. What she had, she was proud to call her own. As she once said, she'd rather marry a man who loved her and wouldn't forsake her than a king and all that he could promise. "What makes it any business of yours anyway?"

"I think the both of us have suffered under the current regime enough," he stated.

"My children are safe and happy," Mary quickly interrupted. It was eerie how easily she could read the direction his thoughts were going in – and scary at how close she was coming to agreeing with him. She would not do that to her sister, even if Anne had turned her back upon her. "And I am happy. To my mind, that makes up for the suffering we once endured."

Edward's smile revealed his pity for her. "Don't lie to me, Lady Mary. I know how close your family was to each other until this schism occurred. I lost my sister – and you lost your family. It would be to your advantage to partner up with me."

"Why would I betray my sister for you?" she asked. "Even for prestige and money? Neither lasts very long in a world grown cold and empty without friends."

"Did not your sister betray you first?" he asked, rising to his feet. "Think about it, I'll see you around."

Even before he disappeared, her husband appeared at her side. "Who was that? A messenger from the Court?" he curiously questioned, a sound of cautious hope in his voice. As much as he didn't like Court life, he knew that Mary missed it. That she missed being with her family. For her sake, he would be glad to put up with the hypocrisy and danger that was the Court.

She looked up at him, a shadowed smile on her face. "Hardly, that was Edward Seymour. I'm not exactly sure what he wanted – and it scares me to know that he'll be back."

William Stafford sat beside her, a frown on his own face. His wife was not prone to nameless, faceless worries and fears. And he knew something of this man, though not as much as he'd heard of Thomas. The head of the Seymour household, he'd done his best to destroy all evidence of Jane's existence – and the strong Catholic ties of the family.

An adept, political player, once one of the Emperor Charles' right hand confidants. For most of his young career, he'd been in the European Court, gathering power and allies. With his sharp intellect, he had been valuable to those he cultivated. He'd only fallen from grace when his own ties to Luther's religion had been revealed.

Of course, that fall might've been caused by the dissolution of his first marriage because his wife had an affair – with his own father. Such a thing was shocking, unheard of – and the scandal had caused him to have sympathy, but no real way to deal with it so long as he stayed overseas.

"Why would he be back?" he asked, wrapping an arm comfortingly around her.

"I think he wishes to make Anne suffer – and he wants my help doing it," she added. "He seems to think that I've suffered at her hands just because I've been banished from Court."

His smile was sad, "Because of me."

Mary's smile was open, loving. "I'd rather have you than Court life."


	10. You Must be More Careful

_past_

Mary walked the gardens, lost in thought and utterly oblivious to the beauty surrounding her. Her hand rested absently on her still flat belly, as thoughts brewed restlessly in her mind. There was only a minimal chance that she would be able to escape detection.

It had already been a few months since she'd spoken to her father and sister about her condition. Henry had been looking at her contemplatively lately. Not to mention that Wolsey was already regarding her with suspicion. At the thought of the King's main counselor, she shivered.

The man had far too much power and was considered more of a King by the populace than Henry was.

As always, the thought of Henry made her giggle and smile foolishly. Even her darker thoughts couldn't keep her from such fondly foolish feelings. To her eyes, he was far more a man than her accommodating husband. The center of her existence and reason for her being so happy and content with her lot, that was the King.

In the distance, she could hear the hounds and paused, turning towards the sound. Perhaps she would see the King ride by, looking magnificent on his black stallion. The horse had been a gift from one of the foreign principalities and was far wilder than the advisors cared for. Henry had loved if, much to the dismay of the courtiers.

Thomas Boleyn saw his daughter and frowned. The stubborn chit was going to cost them everything with her vain and ridiculous hope that Henry would keep her on as Royal Mistress, even Bessie hadn't been _that_ stupid. How the girl could be from his loins, he wasn't sure – save that his wife wasn't one to play with him.

"Mary, we need to talk," Thomas gave her no warning. She turned, staring at him in shock. "Do you have any sense of family duty? Of respect for your father and his wishes?"

"Of course, father," she stammered, heart racing in her chest.

"Then why do you continue to disregard my advice? Why ware you ignoring everything I tell you to do? You are not going to be an exception in the King's eye if you have this child. Then what will you do? Does the idea of poverty, of living in squalor appeal to you?" He leaned closer to her, looming over her.

"Your husband is a fool with little sense of money or the way to make it. As for you, what little talent you possess will never keep food on the table. Nor will it last for men want young women in their beds, not old hags. Of all my children, you are an intellectual waste, a disappointment. Though seeing how stupid Anne become, puffed up in her own mind as to her true purpose, I'm not sure if your stupidity is a bad thing. At least you know to open your legs when told to."

Jane squirmed uncomfortably in the shadows, wishing she had the courage to interrupt or leave.

Anything was better than listening to Sir Boleyn rag on Mary. She couldn't believe that any father would be so cruel to his flesh and blood – no matter what they had done wrong. Nor did she understand his crudeness towards a gently bred lady, no matter what her behavior said of her. Mary may have been many things but she certainly did not deserve to be treated so badly.

Even though Edward was far harsher to her than their father had, he was never this horrid to her. He'd only hit her that once and had apologized for it, albeit grudgingly. Still, the fact remained that he realized his error and owned up to it.

Hearing Mary's soft sob, she rose to her feet, walking shakily around the hedge towards them. Her hands were clasped before her and she bowed respectfully. Thomas glared at her, suspicion in his dark eyes. "Please, forgive my interruption but the Queen has need of you, Lady Mary."

"Of course," Mary composed herself rapidly. Though there was some effort behind it, she looked as if tears had never fallen upon her cheeks. "Thank you, Jane. Father, if will excuse me?"

Thomas waved her off, knowing that he had no grounds to keep her from the Queen. Studying the blond girl in white critically, he felt that he should know her. There was nothing very attractive about her, all washed out and colorless in that dress. But he'd seen her attending Anne, so she was obviously of high quality. "Have we met?"

"Not formally, sir," she murmured, rising from her curtsey. It took reserves of strength she didn't know she had inside to remain motionless as he drew closer to her. Uncomfortably close, she noted with a hitch in her breath.

"Well, gel? Have you no tongue?" he demanded.

"I do, sir," she replied, eyes downcast.

"Then introduce yourself," he ordered.

Jane shivered, "I only came to find the Lady Mary. As we are quite alone, sir, it is unseemly for me to remain even to grant your request of knowing my name. Propriety speaks against it unless you have shown honorable intentions towards me. You will learn my name when we are in proper company, sir."

"How dare you offer me cheek?"

"I did no such thing by pointing our something a _gentleman_ such as yourself ought to know," she demurred, sounding almost as composed as Anne would. With another curtsey, she stepped back. "Please, excuse me for I have other ladies to gather for the Queen."

As the King's hounds approached them, Thomas had no choice but to let her flee. He had a nasty suspicion he should have figured out who she was by now. There was nothing for it, he would ask Anne who the gel was. Or George if need be, though the idea of having his son seek the gel out did not sit well with him. The little blond did not feature into his plans at all.

The King had shown a definite predilection towards curvy, blue eyed, blonds – that girl fit the description almost perfectly. If Anne's exotic manners and flair for style were adopted by that gel, he'd lose the King's favor. There was no way he was going to allow that. With little regard, he'd crushed that little child Percy's suit.

It would not take him much to find a way to stop his daughter from harvesting a viper in her bosom.

He'd come to far to allow her to destroy things now.

654321

Mary made a quick stop in Anne's room, "Father's here."

"When did he arrive?" Anne sat up, face vexed even though her voice remained calm, dignified.

"I don't know," she admitted, entering and shutting the door behind her. "He startled me when I was walking in the gardens. Your Jane spared me a longer interview with him by telling me that the Queen wished to speak with me.'

"She's not my Jane," Anne absently corrected, her mind already on other matters. If what Mary said was true – and she had no reason to lie – then Jane had brought herself to Thomas' attention in the worst possible way. While she was thankful that she was showing some backbone, this was not how Anne wanted her to go about doing so. The implication of her father focusing on Jane did not bear thinking about. "I hope you thanked her. She lied to save you from father."

"How do you know?"

"If Queen Katharine had wished to speak to you, she would have asked me to get you once our interview was concluded. To be blunt, she wants me to talk to you about your baby," she said, watching her sister sink into the chair, pale as the clothes the younger ladies wore.

"She knows?" Mary's voice was a whisper of sound.

"How could she not when she's been in that condition several times?" her question was ironic – and condescending. As much as it galled her to agree with her father on any point, Mary's naïve stupidity irked her. It was utterly beyond her how she and George could be related to Mary when she was less than averagely intelligent.

Even Jane wasn't this stupid.

Mary's eyes were frantic, darting about the room. "What am I supposed to do? Father's never going to let this matter drop once he finds out that she knows."

"If you don't calm down, you won't have to worry," she quickly warned, remembering one of the times when Claude was pregnant. How the Queen Mother had recommended – meaning bluntly and stridently ordered – her to stay away from all excitement and activity. It had been a lonely, rather boring time, for her ladies for they had to remain in confinement with her.

"What does it matter? I'll be sent away," she dropped her head into her hands. "Not that I expect you to care of understand. Father's little golden girl who can do no wrong, even when she spits in the face of the King. It is no small matter what you've done. Father believes you'll come around to his point of view in time. You always do."

Anne felt taken aback by the biter words and envy in Mary's voice. Jane's words were recalled to her mind and she wondered if the girl could be right. Would her sister help her in exchange for Anne's help? Could she help her sister remain in the King's favor?

Thereby pleasing their father – and not losing her honor. "I haven't done anything yet, Mary. It is my hope that I never will have to do anything," she gentled her voice as much as she could.

It was not as easy as she thought for this was a subject matter that was distasteful to her. "I know that you find it a privilege and a joy to serve the King as you have. I suppose you have a point in thinking of it as an honor. But it is not the time to speak of me, the Queen wishes to have a hand in your child's life."

"Why?" though sullen, her voice held a note of curiosity in it.

"I'm not sure," Anne admitted. "She mentioned something about the Roman Emperors and heirless unions. As Maria exists and both Princess Margaret and Princess Mary have children, it makes no sense that there is such unrest about an heir for the throne."

Mary shook her head, "For a bright girl, you are rather ignorant. The Kind wants his _own_ seed to sit on the throne, another will not do. The lack of a son – at least a legitimate one – is a mark against his manhood. Why do you think the Queen was so worried when King Henry gave his son by Bessie all those titles and honors, she feared he was trying to replace the Princess Maria as rightful heir."

"Men are so complicated," Anne complained, wondering what had changed in Katharine's heart.

"Not really," Mary shrugged. "They want their needs met, children to show off their virility, and to be told that they are right about everything – even when they are clearly in the wrong. About the only male I've met that this hasn't applied to is Sir Moore."

She scowled, "Men aren't babies."

"To a certain extent, they are – and we women can be the same way," she admonished her. "This need to be taken care of and pampered to the point of selfishness is not one sided."

She could concede the point. As much as she admired King Francis' mother, the woman was a dominating, commanding, virago. Louise held onto her beliefs in the face of all else, browbeating others into believing as she did. She was scarily efficient but often stole the voice of another in her actions.

Mostly Claude had born the brunt of such actions, always appearing weak in the eyes of others. "What are you going to do?" she asked, bringing them back to the more important topic at hand.

"I don't know," she sighed. "What should I do?"

"I wish I could give you some advice, but I'm at a loss."

Mary shook her head, "That's not what I asked. What would you do if you were in my place?"

Anne had to still her tongue to keep from saying that she'd never be in Mary's place. "I'd see the Queen. Not only because she can protect me from father but because she is smart enough to come up with a good solution to the dilemma before me."

"She didn't help Bessie, nor does she approve of all that Henry's done for her son," she pointed out.

Anne hesitated before offering an explanation, one that made sense to her. "I think that may have been more to do with the situation involved. As you pointed out, she feared that the King was trying to replace their legitimate daughter with this boy. Plus, he surprised everyone with his actions. If I'm not mistaken, the only one who probably had any inclination about the way things went was Wolsey. And even he seemed surprised by all that was done.

"How would you feel to, not only have a strange boy thrust up into prominence but made a rival to your child – the legitimate heir?"

"I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"Go see the Queen," she advised. "Give truth to Jane's lie. You know that father will question you about it, even if he thinks it just has to do with your regular duties."

Mary looked at Anne, really looked. For the first time, she saw her not as a rival to the King's affections but as just another young woman struggling to find her own happiness in the backstabbing world of the Court. A happiness that had been stolen from her by their father. There was something about the way she spoke and the kind light in her eyes was one she'd never seen before.

At least, not directed at her. "You really like this girl, this Jane, don't you?"

"I do," Anne was slow and quiet to admit. Her head tilted to the side as she explained. "She's such a peculiar little thing, so different from the others at Court. There is no artificiality about her. It's rather refreshing to deal with someone who has no ulterior motives."

"Then you should be on guard against father finding out. He's hardly likely to take it as a good thing, your friendship with the child of his rivals," Mary warned.

Anne was puzzled. "Sir Seymour is not a diplomat and is rarely, if ever, to be found at Court. Why should it matter to father?"

Mary sighed. "For all your worldly ways, you are such an innocent. Father would see her as an obstacle to gaining what he wants because her father would have similar plans for her. Perhaps he will not reach as high as the King but should she catch his eye, he will not refuse the opportunity.

"There are also her brothers to consider. While our George is an amiable fellow, he is not as ambitious as father – nor as ruthless. Should he not get what he wants, George would be content. He can make his own happiness in whatever situation he finds himself in.

"Not so with the Seymour brothers, even though they are different in nature and personality, Edward and Thomas are ambitious to a deadly fault. Thomas even more than Edward for he has a pleasant nature that disguises his ruthless determination. Having a sister at Court, one who was placed so high, they would jump at the opportunity it presented to them."

Anne paled, recognizing the truth in Mary's words. She had not thought at all about Jane's brothers for they weren't at the English Court. As they were not in constant view, they had ceased to be something she was constantly on the alert for. By becoming friends with Jane, she was inviting her father to take notice of the young girl, perhaps to her own danger.

"I had not thought of that," her reply was soft. "Thank you, Mary, for reminding me that I need to be more cautious than I have been."

Mary was surprised. For all their squabbles over the years – and all their agreements – neither had ever said _thank you_ nor did they apologize. Considering their father, she wasn't sure that was such a good thing for Anne to start developing. For Thomas would see it as a weakness, not as a strength. Perhaps Jane's influence upon Anne should be stopped before damage could be done.

But looking at her sister, she wasn't sure she could bring it up.

Anne looked…different, more centered in her skin. France had changed her, had changed them both if she was being honest. But while she had been able to adapt and be happy in France, Anne had often been unhappy there for she had truly loved the Court of Lady Margaret.

The expectations of the French Court she could live up to but the other factors…the other girls that surrounded her, they were another matter entirely. She knew that Anne had often sought refuge in books. Some of which were of a more questionable nature.

And just when she was finding her feet, she had been brought home to make a suitable marriage. Anne had been uncomfortable in the more structured English Court. Though she had adapted as best as she could, it was obvious that she wasn't able to fully fit in.

She stuck out and carried it off brilliantly but never relaxed.

And the other ladies didn't relax around her.

Thus, she was isolated and unhappy, and father's plans did nothing to ease that sense of being an alien. Mary nodded and rose, noting that Anne did the same thing. Opening the door, she almost made a comment before merely smiling and making her way down to the Queen's chambers.

Anne sat down, contemplating the deep blue coverlet. This was the second time she'd been afraid for her future friendship with Jane. Afraid of some unknown, unnamed threat to what she shared with the other girl. But what was she to do about it? What could she possibly do?

Jane was far to important to her. She couldn't cut her out of her life without an explanation. Not after initiating lessons and gaining the Queen's approval of them. It wasn't fair to her.

And she owed Jane more than a sharp dismissal. It was their friendship that had caused dissention in the Seymour family. While Thomas seemed willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, Mary had been right. There was something slightly unhinged about the man that set Anne's nerves on edge. It might have had something to do with his association with her unsavory cousin, Frances, but she felt it was the man himself.

He just seemed to openly concealed to be trusted.

654321

Jane entered her room, sighing when she saw the new paper on her desk. Sitting down with a vague sense of relief that Anne had not given up on her after their harsh words, she still felt a sense of dread. It would be more work she had to find room for in the free time allotted to her.

The shortness of the lines surprised her – especially when she recognized that two of the five words were their names. Finding that peculiar, she took out her quill and carefully wrote her own name down. Then, she worked on the other three words there, finding the first was an easy _I_.

Recognizing the _a_, she turned to the second letter of the word. It was like the letter _n_, but had an extra hump – that made it an _m_. This was the strangest assignment she'd had so far. And that was saying a lot for Anne had been fond of starting with one subject and then suddenly switching to another. An _s_, followed by an _o_, two _r_'s, and a _y_, _I am sorry_.

_What_?

Jane sat up as the meaning of the sentence sank in. Anne was apologizing, to her? She found it odd. After all, she'd heard from her Anne's own lips that one should never apologize for anything. So, why was she now? But these questions didn't matter for she wasn't the only one who was sorry. Getting up, she walked down the hall and knocked on the door, smoothing down her dress nervously as she waited.

"Come in," the voice was distorted by the wood but she could hear the saddened sound in it.

Opening the door, she curtsied and asked, almost jokingly, "Should I have brought flowers?"

Anne sat up, "Shouldn't that be my line? I am the one at fault."

"Kind of you to admit your error, but I also should apologize. I shouldn't have yelled," she stepped in, shutting the door behind her.

"I gave you good reason," Anne admitted, warily watching her.

"I didn't have to give in," Jane replied, as nervous as the older girl. Neither of them had ever been in this situation, and never before with each other. It was hard to know what the next step should be. But staring at each other didn't seem to be the way to go about things. "Are we going to be all right?" she asked, voice tentative for she hardly could believe her own temerity.

Anne smiled, relieved to not be the one to break the ice. If she had her choice, she preferred being the voice of wisdom over the voice of uncertainty. "I hope so. Jane, sit down – by me, please. There's something else I need to speak to you about."

Jane approached her and sat down after making doubly sure that she wouldn't get leaves or grass on the covers. "Is this about your father?" her question was quiet.

She nodded, resting her hand on Jane's. "You have to be more careful. My father is not one to be trifled with – especially when it comes to his plans, Jane."

"I got the feeling upon meeting him, my lady," she admitted. "He's rather cold and focused."

"And if we're not careful, he'll turn that upon you. I don't know how to fight him, Jane. As much as it looks like I do, that's all a front. I cannot lose you. You really are the first, true friend I've ever had outside of George," she quietly admitted, as if it was something to be ashamed of.

"Lose me?" Jane repeated, finally meeting her eyes. "Anne, I don't know what to say."

"Say that you'll be more careful in the future," she ordered her, almost harshly.

Jane was silent, thinking.

"Jane?" she pressed.

Blue eyes locked on black, tightly. "All I can say is that I will be wary. But Lady Anne, I have already come to his notice. This may be a situation of too little, too late."

There was a twisted smile at that. "You could be right. Still, it does no harm to try an evasive maneuver. Jane?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Would you _**please**_ call me Anne?" she asked, exasperated with her continued formality. "I much prefer it to the distant _Lady_ you are fond of using."

"It is your honorific," she pointed out.

"But _**not**_ to my friends," Anne corrected.

"How about my lady of intelligence?" she teased.

"Jane!" she objected, but couldn't help the smile that twitched her lips.

"Gracious Milady Anne?"

"Oh, don't you start!"

Laughing, she yielded, "All right, Anne."


End file.
